The Cat House
by Aerenii
Summary: Richard meets the most intriguing whore.   Sex, language, kinda sorta technically violence...a whip does show up in chapter 2.  Plot starts in Ch 4.
1. First Impressions Can Be A Bitch

**A/N: The sole reason for this is because I wanted to write a kinky Richard fic. I thought I'd take the Jacqueline Carey route and put a plot around it (If you haven't read any of her work -especially the first three in the Kushiel trilogy, I highly recommend her. She is a fantastic writer, her imagery is amazing, her characters are superb, and I would almost bet a kidney that if you pick up one of her books, you'll want to read it in one sitting.)**

**So, um, yeah...it might seem pretty OOC for Richard, but to be honest, I think any man who can scalp someone might enjoy a little kink in their sex life.**

**There are some pics of Jack Huston on Tumblr that just inspire very impure thoughts. (not that I really need any help having those), so here you go.**

**(Oh, and the plot might show up in a chapter or two. Or I might just leave this as nothing but literotica.)**

_Chapter 1_

It was a house that had obviously seen better days, but you could tell care was taken to keep it appearing somewhat neat and tidy. Flower boxes lined the windowsills, and the porch rail and door had been painted not too long ago. Lights burned in a few of the windows, muted by curtains of varying colors. Richard spotted the silhouetted cat painted on one of the stairs and knew this was the right place. It was a quiet neighborhood, not quite entirely seedy, but not far from it. Richard looked around, making sure no one spotted him, and hurried up the stairs.

"Cat? Sorry to bother you, but, um...there's a guy in the entry hall."

Cat looked up from the account book she'd been going over and adjusted her glasses. "And none of you know what to do when a man comes in the house?"

"Well, no...it's just that...it's that guy with the mask."

"Fuck!" Cat muttered as she shot to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over in her haste. She stormed out of her office, past the bar which got no real use since the house had no liquor, through the lounge and into the entry hall.

"I know who you are!" she yelled, stepping close to Richard and poking his chest. "You're Jimmy Darmody's friend, and if you were running around with Darmody, you're probably running around for Nucky Thompson." Richard withstood three pokes of that relentless finger before he started backing away, taken aback by the ferocity of her outburst. "You're going to march yourself right out that door and back to Nucky and you're going to tell him that I am not going to give in to him. And the next time you show up at my house I'm going to shoot you. Do I make myself clear?" Richard found his back pressed against the door, and even though he couldn't go anyplace else, the woman was still poking his chest. He blinked at her for a moment, slightly confused by the situation.

"I didn't, mm. Come here because of Nucky," he said, glancing into her eye, then looking away quickly. He wondered if this woman always had such a knack for taking an awkward situation and making it nearly unbearable. She probably did, which would explain the near lack of clients.

"Oh? And what did you come for, then?" she asked, planting her hands on her hips and fixing Richard with her gaze. Richard looked back at her, fighting the urge to grind his teeth.

"Why do men, mm. Usually visit...a whorehouse?" he asked, feeling somewhat peeved. Nice of her to take what was already an awkward situation for him and make it so much worse. She opened her mouth and drew breath, like she was going to go off on him again, but she quickly closed it again and took a small step back from him.

"Oh," she replied. She looked somewhat embarrassed, the faint blush in her cheeks giving her the appearance of an innocence she didn't possess. "Well, then...come in. Did you see a girl you'd like?"

"Mm, yes. The one with. Black hair, blue, mm. Eyes, and glasses. If, mm. She's available." Cat felt the blush in her cheeks deepen as she weighed her choices. She could be honest and tell him she'd retired from the mattress and see if one of the other girls caught his interest, or she could take him to her room, fuck him and be done with it. Part of her wanted to shuffle him off to one of the other girls, but he wanted her and what was the job description of a whore? Give the customer what he wanted.

"All right,' she finally replied, leading him through the house to the small bedroom she called her own. It was plainly but comfortably decorated. It wasn't the room of a whore but that of the proprietor of the house. Stacks of paperwork covered the bed, and Cat gave a small sigh as she looked at the mess. "Give me a minute, please," she said as she started clearing her bed. "I wasn't expecting to have anyone back here tonight."

"I've. Mm, got all night," Richard replied as he leaned against the wall and watched her bustle about, trying to keep some sort of organization to the piles. "Are you the, mm. Sexy librarian fantasy?" he asked as she placed a stack of papers on her dresser.

"If that's what you want me to be tonight, then sure."

"I do have. Mm, a request," Richard said.

_Of course you do._ Cat thought as she moved the last stack of papers to a clear spot on her windowsill. "I do pretty much anything, but I draw the line at any act involving animals or children."

"You're. Mm, kidding."

"I'm sorry, aren't whores allowed to have standards or morals?" she snapped, facing him with her hands on her hips. Richard realized he had managed to find the most cantankerous whore on the eastern seaboard. He took a deep breath, wondered if he shouldn't just leave now and forget the entire thing, but he decided to at least see if she would do what he wanted.

"I mean. Mm, you're kidding? Men have... asked you. To involve animals? That's mm. Disgusting."

"Everyone's got their own kinks. I'm sure there are plenty of men who would look at whatever it is that you want me to do as disgusting. What do you want me to do, anyway?" Richard told her, and Cat felt her eyebrows creep up her forehead. This man was by far the most enigmatic client she ever met. She knew his reputation. EVERYONE in the less up-and-up society of Atlantic City knew about the quiet killer that used to shadow Darmody. But as she listened to him shyly tell her what he wanted for the night, she couldn't reconcile his sweet, almost innocent request with the fact that he killed people.

"That's what you want?" she asked. He nodded. "Alright. Not a request I've ever personally gotten, but okay. But you seem to think this is a problem."

"Mm, I would have. To take. Mm, my mask off..." As he spoke, his eyes drifted towards the floor. "I, mm. Don't think...you would. Be comfortable seeing what. Mm, it's covering."

Which Cat thought really meant he wasn't comfortable with her seeing what it was hiding. Well, that was fine. His request wasn't too outrageous as far as they went. She could accommodate him.

"Well, I could just take off my glasses," she said, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. "Then you'd just be a blur." As she spoke, she walked to her closet and opened the door. "But, I've got something that might...make you more comfortable." She pulled a trunk out of her closet and opened it, rummaging through it's contents, a strange amount of clanking and jangling accompanying her digging. Richard watched her with a mix of curiosity and hopeful anticipation. She finally held something up, a look of triumph on her face. Richard looked at the item in her hand, a leather blindfold. He gave a small nod and felt that hopeful anticipation turn into sharp, eager desire. But it was overlaid with a layer of worry, the fear of something going wrong nagging at him. He tried to brush it aside as she walked back to the bed. She stood beside it and looked at Richard.

"Couple of rules," she told him. "There's the standard whorehouse rule: no kissing on the mouth. If you do anything that makes me bleed, it'll be an extra ten buck. And if I say no, or stop, I mean no, or stop. Got it?" Richard nodded, wondered what this woman normally did that required a ten dollar fee for breaking skin, and watched as she took off her glasses, set them on the nightstand, and then slipped the blindfold on and adjusted it so it covered her eyes completely. Then, she slowly reached up and began unfastening her dress, letting it slide from her body to puddle at her feet.

Silently, Richard closed the distance between them. He reached out, almost shyly, and skimmed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. His touch surprised her, she hadn't heard him move at all.

"Mm, sorry," Richard murmured as she startled. But he continued to skim his fingers over her skin, watching as goosebumps formed under his touch. "Please don't, mm. Fake it," he said softly, tracing the curve of her collar bone. "If I'm not, mm. Doing it right...tell me."

"Alright," Cat replied, feeling the initial flutters of arousal beginning to build as one of his hands caressed the underside of her breast, cupping it slightly, as if he were testing it's weight. She wondered if he understood just how much trust she was placing in him at the moment. Blindfolded, she wouldn't know until it was too late if he decided to do something violent, like shoot her where she stood. But she thought she was still good enough at judging customers that she didn't really have to fear that. The man who had developed a reputation as a merciless killer had come to her brothel and said in a shy, innocent way that his desire for the evening was to touch and taste her, see if he could bring her to orgasm. She desperately wanted to ask the one question a whore never asked a client: WHY? But she would never ask, and unless he volunteered the information, she would never know.

She felt his hands begin sliding her shift up her body, and she raised her arms and helped pull it off. She knew he was looking at her, she could feel the weight of his gaze even though she couldn't see him. She stood still, waiting. She began to tremble with anticipation, wondered what he was waiting for. Did he not find her arousing now that she was naked?

"Lay down, mm. Please," he said softly. She sat, then laid herself out along the bed. She heard his clothes fall to the floor, then he bed dipped as he joined her on it. He began running his hands over her body, very lightly, not completely innocently. He was gentle as he rolled one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, teasing it to tautness before he lightly ran his tongue over the stiffened peak, once, twice, three times. A low moan escaped her throat as Richard trailed his hand up her ribs and cupped her other breast, his strong fingers kneading the swell. Cat brought her hands up and twined them in his hair, applied slight pressure to the back of his head, wordlessly encouraging him to take the nipple between his lips and gently begin sucking. There was something odd, but not unpleasant about the sensation...she couldn't quite describe it, although it almost felt like his mouth wasn't entirely closed around the nub. She pushed the thought from her mind as his teeth grazed her skin.

"_Yessssss,"_ she nearly hissed as she arched her back. He took her nipple between his teeth, tugging slightly, nipping just a little. Her breath grew quick and shallow, her heart began to race. His skimmed his hand down her stomach, between her legs, his fingers parting her and exploring her folds. Cat spread her legs and lifted her hips, pressed against his head, hinting 'down'. He took his time kissing and licking his way down her stomach. He positioned himself between her legs, pinning her right leg down with his arm, but working his other arm under her thigh. He spread her lips with his left hand and began exploring her with his tongue. It was torturous, because he kept skirting around her clit, never fully touching it, just brushing by it, occasionally flicking it lightly, but never devoting true attention to it. Cat tried to twist her hips to get her nerve bundle closer to his mouth, but know matter how she squirmed, he seemed to avoid it. Finally, Cat snaked her hand down and pointed to her clit.

"Put your mouth there," she said. "Nibble, lick, suck just dear fucking god please..."

Richard ran his tongue along her finger, brushing her clit as he did so. Cat moaned and moved her finger out of the way, deep moans issuing from her throat as he finally FINALLY began attending to the little pearl that begged for attention. He was gentle in his attention, but thorough. Cat's hips began to rock in time with his movements, the fingers of his right hand digging into her hip, pulling her against his face as he thrust his tongue inside of her, his nose thrusting against her clit.

"I said lick the damn thing," Cat ordered, her teeth clenched. She was so close to that peak, and he was fucking teasing her? What the hell did he think was going on here? Richard obeyed, bringing his mouth back up to the perked nub. He experimented with different tongue motions, listening to her moans and whimpers, feeling her body start to tremble. He wanted to tease her a little more, if only for his own amusement, but her hand twined in his hair, and she pushed herself against his face, grinding her hips against him, 'yes' and 'fuck yes' a streaming litany from her mouth. Her back arched, her body stiffened momentarily before completely relaxing against the bed, her fingers loosening from his hair.

Richard abruptly pulled away from her. "Mm. Roll over," he told her, his cock throbbing with desire. He watched her as she rolled onto her stomach, resisting the urge to just ram himself into her. He waited until she had settled to on her stomach, her legs spread invitingly before he covered her body with his and slid into her. He moaned as she enveloped him, slick and warm and so accommodating. He started moving slowly and deeply, her hips lifting each time he plunged into her. Each thrust brought a gasp from her throat, each gasp brought him closer to the edge. She pulled her knees in just slightly, raising her hips letting him deeper into her. "Harder," she gasped. "God please fuck me harder." Richard obliged. He gave in to his lust, pounding himself into her as hard as he could. "Bring. Mm, your. Knees up," he somehow managed to say, keeping his hips against her ass as she drew her knees in and he moved into a kneeling position. "Fuck me hard," she said.

Richard grabbed her hips and pulled her against him as he thrust into her. He had never been so rough before, would never have considered it, but he enjoyed it. It felt good. Each time he rammed into her a small cry escaped from her, a sound of pure pleasure. "Oh. Fuck... God...oh fuck...yes...hard...god...oh...oh fuck...god ...fuck...me...oh" Her fists clenched the pillow. She moved her legs closer together, making herself tighter around his cock. He didn't realize it, but the word 'fuck' slipped out from his mouth as he gave one last brutal thrust before exploding inside of her. He stayed pressed against her for a moment, panting, trying to hear anything other than his pulse pounding in his ears. He finally opened his eye and looked at the woman in front of him. He decided he liked the sight, although he was quite curious about the long, thin welted scars that criss-crossed her back. He reached his fingers out and traced one of them, it started half an inch below her ribs and ran down past her waist. He wanted to ask her how she came by them, but instead he said "You're, mm. Bossy."

"It's what made me a good dominatrix," she replied with a shrug. She turned and looked over her shoulder, although she was still blindfolded. "But I can also be very submissive."

Richard didn't entirely believe that, given what he'd seen of her personality this evening.

He slid out of her and climbed off the bed, reaching for his mask and putting it on. "Mm, you can take. The blindfold, mm. Off," he told her as he reached for his clothes and started dressing. He watched her as she pulled the blindfold off, then blindly groped for the nightstand. She had to lean very close to it, her eyes almost completely closed in a squint. Richard reached over and slid her glasses closer to her hand. "You really, mm. Can't see without. Your glasses."

"You didn't believe me? You think I wear them just for fashion?"

"Maybe you, mm. Wear them to look like. Less of, mm a bitch."

Cat was on her feet in an instant, standing right in front of him. Her hand quickly fisted in his hair, and she pulled his head down and back. He felt a strange stab, part fear, part excitement.

"I'm a bitch, huh?" she said in a low voice, her mouth close to his ear. "Come back next Friday at ten, and I'll show you what a bitch I really can be. If you think you can handle it." She quickly let his hair go and stepped past him to her closet. "It'll be fifteen for tonight," she said as she pulled out a robe and slipped into it. Richard finished putting on his clothes, casting glances at her from the corner of his eye, wondering why she intrigued him so. She certainly wasn't like any of the other whores he'd ever been with. Dressed, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He pulled out a twenty, glanced at her and saw she wasn't looking at him, grabbed a second bill and folded it inside of the twenty and placed it on the nightstand. "Your money. Mm, is on the table. Good night." He left her room, and the house, taking his time walking home.

He spent the next week working and thinking of her, and when next Friday rolled around, he found himself in front of the whorehouse, standing across the street from it, staring, wondering if he should go in. It wasn't quite yet nine. He still had an hour to make up his mind.

Cat was in her office, paying bills, when one of the girls knocked on her door. "Hey Cat? That guy with the mask is standing across the street, looking over here like he can't figure out what to do."

A smile slowly spread across Cat's face as she stood up. "He'll come in in about an hour," she said. "When he does, send him up to the attic. I should be ready by then." She stepped out of her office and went to her room to prepare.

"A bitch, am I?" she said aloud as she changed clothes. "Oh my dear man, you have no idea." She was quite looking forward to this...


	2. Submit

**A/N: Keep in mind the company that is around you when you read this. **

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**Not safe for: work, areas with reading-age children, convents, monasteries, public libraries, etc.**

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**Sorry this took so long to get up. Richard wouldn't obey. Bad, bad boy. **

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**Yes, that's right...'nibble my biscuit'**

Submit 

Richard walked up the dark narrow stairwell, his hat clenched nervously in his hand. Each step closer to the door above came with the same thought _I can't do this. I shouldn't do this. _

But he kept climbing.

Because he wanted to do this. So what if the innocent farm boy in him believed it was a sin. Everything he'd done lately was a sin. What was one more log on the eternal fire of damnation?

He wanted this.

He stood on the top riser, his hand on the doorknob. He could either open the door, walk in, and put himself at the mercy of that frost-eyed bitch, or he could turn around, walk back down the stairs, and go home.

He opened the door and stepped inside.

Part of the attic was dimly lit by small lamps along the wall, although it fell to complete darkness at the far end, and Richard could barely make out any details. He could see her standing in front of the window, her back to him. She was wearing a black corset with black garters that held up black stocking, with black shoes. Her black hair hung down her back in a tight braid, her bare shoulders pulled back squarely. She held something looped in her hands behind her back. Richard felt himself reacting in many ways to the sense of power and confidence she radiated, even as she did nothing but stand there. Richard softly closed the door behind him, never taking his eyes off of Cat's back.

"Your nerves nearly got the better of you once or twice across the street." It was a statement said in a tone of absolute knowledge. Richard said nothing, because it was true.

"You need to understand what's going on here tonight. This is about dominance and submission, resistance and surrender. You will feel things you've never experienced. Not only the exquisite pleasure that can come from pain, humiliation, and relinquishing control, but emotions you would never have comprehended. You may not like yourself after this. You may discover things about yourself that you were more comfortable not knowing. Or you may truly discover who you are and flourish for it. I've seen both happen.

"But above all that, you have to trust me. I will inflict pain, but you have to believe that I won't _really _hurt you. Do you understand the difference?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, I want you to turn around and face the door, and I want you to think about what I just said and decide if you truly want to go through with this. If you don't, leave. I won't think any less of you for it, and you are welcome to visit the house at any time for whatever desire you would like. But if you do want to do this, you will find the first test of how much you trust me on the back of the door. Decide." She fell silent after that, leaving Richard to his thoughts. He turned and looked at the door. There were three hooks on the back of it. One was empty. One had the blindfold she wore the other night hanging from it. The third had an eye patch. He studied them as he decided if he really wanted to go through with this.

Why did he want to? Outside of the lust, of course. Was it to see if he could give himself over to someone? Or was it to see if he was unbreakable? Was he looking for some physical punishment to atone for the sinful things he'd done? Was it all those reasons? Or none of them, but something else entirely? He thought back to that moment in her room last week, when she had gripped his hair and pulled his head back, remembered that strange surge of fear and desire. He wanted to feel it again.

He supposed it didn't matter why he wanted to, only that he did want to. Which brought him to the next decision...how much was he willing to trust her. Was he willing to, literally, blindly put himself in her hands? And if he was, was he willing to completely expose himself to her? He closed his eye, weighed his options, almost agonized by the fear of showing his damaged face to her, but afraid that if he chose to slip the eye patch on and still wear his mask, he would somehow disappoint her, and he didn't want to do that.

He looked back over his shoulder at her. She hadn't moved at all, but she seemed to know he was looking at her.

"You've decided to stay."

"Mm, yes."

"And have you decided how much you're willing to trust me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, one more thing we need to go over. You need a safe word. You'll find yourself begging me to stop, but you won't really mean it. That might not make sense right now, but it will. But if you really want me to stop, if it is becoming so unbearable that you just can't take it anymore, you'll say your safe word, and I'll stop. It should be something easy to remember and to get out, but not something you're likely to just randomly say in the heat of the moment."

Richard thought carefully, then said "What about, mm. Plover?"

"Alright. Plover it is then. Hang your hat and jacket on the door, then take two steps towards me and stop."

He did so, trying to keep his anticipation in check. She finally turned around to look at him. That mix of fear and desire sparked in him again as her eyes swept over him. Her hair was pulled back tightly, her eyes lightly shadowed with gray powder to make the blue of her irises stand out that much more. Her lips were painted a bright, shiny red. Richard saw that the corset covered nothing, but did everything to heighten her appeal by accenting her waist and emphasizing her curves. He watched as she walked toward him, each step confident and in control. Richard stood his ground as she stood very close to him. She reached out with her left had reached up and grabbed his hair, once more pulling his head back.

"I am going to tease you. I am going to use you. I am going to hurt you. I will make you beg me to fuck you. But I won't. Not for a good, long while. " She brought her mouth down to his throat, her teeth just below his Adam's apple. She bit down, not overly hard, but she used enough pressure for Richard to completely realize he was at her mercy. Skin between her teeth, she ran her tongue along the scar that crossed his throat. He shuddered at the sensation. She abruptly let his hair go and walked away from him.

"Take off your clothes," she commanded as she took a dozen steps away and turned back. Richard slowly unbuttoned his vest, his fingers clumsier than normal. He suddenly heard a sharp, quick _*****__crack*_

just off his left shoulder.

"Faster," Cat snapped as she drew the bull whip back towards her. Richard now understood what had been looped behind her back. "I want you naked in the next minute." Heart racing, Richard fumbled through his buttons as fast as he could. He gave up on the buttons half-way through his shirt and just slid it over his head, taking his undershirt with it. He tried to loosen his shoes with one hand while he unfastened his pants, but all he succeeded in doing was losing his balance and falling to the floor.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said. "That's my job. Now finish getting those fucking clothes off." Richard fumbled with his shoes and finally managed to get them undone, then out of his pants and socks. As soon as he freed himself from the clothes, she ordered him to stand up. He did, holding his hands in front of his groin.

"Move your hands. I want to see what you fucked me with last week. I said MOVE THEM!" she yelled when he hesitated, bringing the whip around to crack so close to his hip that he felt the air pop. He moved his hands.

"My, my," Cat said appreciatively as she eyed his cock. "I've said this a lot, and I haven't often meant it, but this time I do. That is a fucking beautiful cock you've got." Embarrassment, pride and lust flared through Richard, leaving his skin feeling hot and tingling. She walked around him, eying him. She seemed calm and collected. Richard felt like a mass of nerves. He wondered what was going to happen. When was it going to happen? What was she going to do to him? How close could she get to him with that whip without actually touching him? How much would it hurt if she did catch him with the whip?

"You're nervous," she whispered in his ear. "I can see your pulse racing in your throat. The anticipation is driving you crazy isn't it?" He swallowed and nodded, knowing he would never get the words out of his mouth. She gave a low chuckle and trailed her hand down his back, then smacked his ass hard before she walked past him. "Show me how much you trust me," she said as she walked into shadows. He could vaguely make out the shape of an armoire against a wall as she opened it.

Richard turned and walked back to the door, staring at the hooks. He took a deep breath, carefully removed his mask and tucked it into his jacket pocket, then pulled the blindfold from it's hook and slipped it over his eyes. The darkness was complete. He stood where he was, his hand against the door, listening carefully. He could hear nothing. He tensed, knowing she was somewhere behind him, knowing she would be up to no good. He turned so his back was to the door, then paused and listened again. Still nothing. Back pressed against the wall, he slowly crept towards the corner, pausing after each step to listen, sense some hint of where she was. The room was utterly still. He imagined her standing by that shadowed armoire, smiling, taking delight in watching him creep toward the corner like a trapped animal.

He was almost to the corner (he thought) when he sensed something drop past his face an instant before it tightened around his neck. He brought his hands up in an attempt to get it off, but he was too late. Cat had the collar buckled before he could get his hands back there, and he heard a lock snap shut just as his hands brushed hers. She gave a low chuckle, then grabbed one of his hands and began sucking on his fingers. Richard moaned and lost himself in the image of her doing the same to his cock, not realizing until he heard the lock that she had slipped a manacle around his wrist. He was rooted in place by fear and excitement, so she had no trouble slipping the other cuff into place and locking it closed. She pressed against his back and placed her hands on his chest. One moment they were just resting there, the next she was raking her nails down his skin. He inhaled sharply and threw his head back, feeling Cat scrap her teeth across his throat for a moment. Suddenly her hands were on his back and she gave him a not-so-gentle shove. He stumbled forward, catching his balance before he could fall. He turned back in the direction he thought she was, only to discover she had gotten behind him once again when he felt her nails rake down his back.

Adrenaline began to course through is veins as he tried to pinpoint where she was. He would turn, only to find her behind him again when she scratched or pinched or shoved him.

"Very disconcerting, isn't it?" she asked. Her voice came from his right, so he turned in that direction, only to feel her breath on the back of his neck a moment later. "You think I'm in one place, only to discover I'm someplace else. And you never know what I'm going to do to you. I could be very nice to you," she purred, running her hand down his stomach to grip his cock and slowly stroking it. The nervous energy coursing through Richard's veins turned instantly into sharp arousal as she worked him, his hips moving in an instinctive thrust to her movement. "You like this, hmm? Feels good, doesn't it? You want to slip this lovely cock into my pussy and fuck me, don't you?" His attempt to say yes was a choked whisper. "I liked the way you fucked me the other night." Her tongue flicked against his earlobe, making him shudder. "Did you like fucking me?" Richard nodded as his body began turning itself towards coming. "Say it!" Cat yelled in his ear, grabbing his hair roughly. "Say 'I liked fucking you, Mistress.'"

"I, mm. liked fucking. You, mm. Mistress," Richard panted, aware that his face was bright red with embarrassment.

"Of course you did. Fucking me is a pleasure, isn't it?"

"Mm, yes."

"Yes, what?" she demanded, pulling his head back hard. "Yes, mm, mistress."

"Good boy," she murmured softly, gently rubbing his scalp. "You're to address me as Mistress from now on? Do you understand?"

"Yes. Mm, yes, mistress." his voice quavered, thick as it was with his mingled emotions. "Good," she repeated. She was still stroking him, long steady sweeps that kept him at the same level arousal, didn't let him move closer or back away. "Keep being a good boy and I'll reward you. Would you like to be rewarded?"

"Yes, Mistress. Mm, I would."

"Of course you would. Now, be a good boy and keep stroking your cock, using the same rhythm I'm using." She let him go and took a step back. "Go on, grab that beautiful cock." Richard hesitated...masturbate? In front of someone? He couldn't! That was so personal, so private.

The shock of her slap across his face startled a cry from his throat. "Any particular reason you're not stroking your dick yet?" she yelled in his face. "What's the matter? Too embarrassed? Does the thought of jerking off in front of me make you feel dirty? Is that it?" Richard turned his face away and gave a small nod. "I can't hear you!" she yelled, grabbing his chin and roughly yanking his head back to face her. "I said, does the thought of jerking off in front of me make you feel dirty?" It took him a moment, but he finally managed to get 'Yes, mistress' out. "Well too fucking bad," she said. "What were you expecting? Me to tease you a little bit then say 'Oh please make sweet gentle love to me!' as I lay on my back and spread my legs for you? Did you really think it would be that easy?" He didn't know how to answer. He hadn't entirely known what to expect. He didn't know how far he could go with this. "Just say the word," she whispered in his ear, her hand gently caressing the angry red hand print that still stung his cheek. "Just say your safe word, and I'll let you go. You can go back to the privacy of your own home, where you can jerk yourself off away from prying eyes, all by yourself. You can imagine what it would have felt like to bury yourself in my pussy. Because that's as close as you'll get to it. Is that what you want?" He shook his head quickly and managed to say no mistress, although he hated himself a bit for it. He couldn't understand why he wanted to submit to her, humiliate himself before her, put himself at her cruel mercy. Guilt and shame welled inside of him along with desire and an overwhelming urge to please her. It was confusing, it was frustrating, it was an internal torture unlike any he had ever experienced.

Everything he had been raised believing screamed that this was a sin. It was hard to get past that belief. But what about everything else in his life? How was this more sinful than the murders he committed without qualm? Why did this cause him so much inner turmoil? Why did that inner turmoil excite him so much? He began to understand what she had meant at the beginning...about what he would learn about himself. He was starting to realize he was exceptionally confused by the way he viewed things. Perhaps it was the fact that, when killing, he was as devoid of emotion as the desert was of water, but here, now, he was experiencing so many emotions that he was nearly overwhelmed by them all. how far was he willing to go with this? How deep into a pit of guilt, shame and depravity would she take him? He knew, if he continued, it would only get worse. Unless and until he said 'Plover', he would be at her complete mercy, not that she would show him any. He suddenly understood something: her goal was to break him, overwhelm him until he gave in and uttered his safe word. Did that make it his goal to outlast her, then? Could he? Hers was a skill she had honed over years of practice. She would know just what to do and say to work her torturous magic on him. He, on the other hand... what chance did he have against her? Not much, he realized. But it wasn't in him to just give up. He wasn't to that point yet. She might push him to that point before she was through, and he realized that part of this was finding your limit, discovering what you could handle.

"Does Mistress still, mm. Want me to pleasure myself?" he asked, pushing aside the acute embarrassment, clinging to the wicked arousal uttering such a phrase left him feeling.

"Yes, she does," she replied. Richard thought he heard pride in her voice. He realized he  
>wanted her to be proud of him. He wanted her to think of him as a good boy. He wanted the rewards she offered.<p>

_Dear God forgive me but I want this so badly _

He took himself in hand and began stroking, trying to ignore the erotic feel of the chain that linked the manacles as it banged against him. He used the same slow steady rhythm she had set, and realized the thought of her watching him do this was actually exciting him. A low moan escaped him and he had to fight the urge to speed up his motions. He tried very hard to not actually think of anything, because as soon as his mind turned to the thought of what was happening, or what he wanted to happen, he grew close to coming. He didn't think that would go over too well. He tried to figure out what she might be doing...hoping he could prepare himself for whatever she had in store. But he couldn't hear anything from her, which REALLY made him wonder what she was up to.

"That's a good boy," she said approvingly. "You can stop now. I think you've earned a little reward. " Richard's pulse skipped in anticipation. She placed her hands on the side of his head and applied gentle pressure, guiding him down. He felt the brush of her nipple across his lips, realized what she wanted him to do and eagerly latched on, bringing his hands up to fondle her breasts as he licked and sucked, occasionally raking his teeth across her skin because he knew she enjoyed that.

"I knew you'd like this. You love my tits, don't you?" He murmured his affirmative reply as he squeezed them together, lashing his tongue across one nipple and then the other in rapid succession. He dug his fingers into her flesh and felt her arch her back. Boldly, he took one of her nipples between his teeth and gradually increased pressure until she gave a small cry, at that point he eased just a little and swirled his tongue around the captured peak. He could feel her body swaying as her hips rocked back and forth. He lowered himself to his knees, skimmed his hands down to her hips, pressed his face between her legs, flicking his tongue over her clit...

Her hand fisted into his hair and roughly yanked him back. That delightful thrill coursed through him once more, although now it was sharper, more defined, more overwhelming than ever. He wished he could understand the why of it.

"Did I say you could lick my pussy?"

"No, but, mm..."

"No, what?" she growled, giving his head a shake.

"No, mistress. Mm, I just thought..."

"You're not here to think. You're here to do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it." She began walking, keeping her hand fisted in Richard's hair and dragging him with her. He shuffled behind her, bent at an awkward angle.

She came to an abrupt halt and ordered him to kneel and put his hands behind his head. He did, feeling her grab the chain that linked his manacles, then tugging on his collar.

_I trust her. I'm probably an idiot but I trust her. I know she won't really hurt me. It won't feel pleasant but it won't be permanently damaging. Although if she lays into my back with that bull whip I might be permanently scarred. Can't have that happen, now can we. Heaven forbid I get a scar. Son of a...she just locked my hands to the collar! This really isn't good. _

Any illusion Richard held that he had control in this situation was shattered.

"Look at you tremble," she said, a note of delight in her voice. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?"

"Mm...somewhat, mistress." He was afraid she would. He was afraid she wouldn't. He was confused, was what he was.

"Only somewhat? I'm being too nice to you, apparently." He could feel her shifting her position, realized she was kneeling beside him when he felt her breath across his scarred cheek. He suddenly regretted taking off the mask, he should have kept it on, kept the horror that was his face hidden. She was probably staring at it in terror, eyes wide, mouth opened with disgust. He turned his face towards her, wanting to press his damaged visage against his arm and hide it from her gaze, but she gripped his chin and turned his head back so that he was staring ahead. "Don't move," she ordered. He held still, even though he wanted to cringe away when he felt her tongue running over the thick scar on his cheek. She traced it from where it started, almost at his ear, all the way to where it disappeared under the blindfold. 

The sensation itself was not unpleasant, but Richard still hated it. He hated his scars, would have covered them up completely if he could. It hadn't occurred to him that she would acknowledge his scars, much less _lick _them.

"Please, mm. Stop. Please."

He meant it.

But he didn't.

"Please what?"

"Please, mistress," he said.

"What?" she asked, running her tongue lower across his cheek. "You don't like this?" Her tongue skirted the ruined corner of his mouth, up his cheek, along the lower edge of the blindfold.

"No, mistress, mm. I don't."

She ran her tongue over the scar above his eye, then back down to the scars on his cheek. "Why do you think I care what you do or don't like?"

"Please, mistress. Please stop." She continued to run her tongue over his scars, and he continued to ask her to stop, his voice growing more pleading as he went. She kept reminding him that if he said his safe word, she would stop, and he could go home and never worry about anyone else licking his scars. Richard clenched the chain in his hands, and ground his teeth together. He was not going to give in on this. Discomfort warred with resolve as she continued to run her tongue over his face. Why was he taking this? Why didn't he just get up and walk away? She wasn't the only whore in the city...he could easily go to any of the other brothels and get a girl for a few hours. There were a couple, at houses he delivered liquor to, who were at least pleasant to him. This one though? Not one nice word, constantly bossing him around, god, even telling him how to fuck her when he was paying good money to get what he wanted! And yet he had come back, feeling the need to answer her challenge. And if he wasn't careful, she was going to win. But who said he just had to meekly take this? Why couldn't he put up some resistance? A small idea occurred to him...it wouldn't take much roll her onto her back and be on top of her instantly.

_That's actually quite appealing. But, would that be tantamount to rape? I mean, she hasn't actually said I could have sex with her, but then again I think it was implied. That's where games like these end, right? Blissful orgasmic sex? Plus,she's not exactly dressed, and she is a whore...but no, just because she's a whore doesn't mean anyone has a right to do whatever they want whenever they want. She's still a woman. I could never do that to a woman. _

_**OH!** She said this was about domination and submission...what if she's expecting me to put up some sort of fight? That's tempting. God knows I have a very strong urge to clobber her right now, even though I would never actually do it, and it's my own fault anyway...she said she was a bitch, and I believe her, even though I'm sure she really has been being 'nice' to me. I wonder if I have a bald spot from where she'd been grabbing my hair. That's one good reason not to put up a fight...my scalp hurts and it's possible she might not grab hair next time. Even if I do love that rush of feeling when she's being so forceful with me! _

_Maybe I could go the other route. What if I completely submit to her? Comply with her demands the instant she utters them, no matter how awkward they make me feel. Do nothing without her permission. Maybe beg her to let me do things to her. I have a feeling that tactic will piss her off._

_Damn it! She's still licking my face like a...cat, ha ha. She's doing it to irritate me. She knows it bothers me, and she's thinking if she does it long enough, I'll give in and say Plover, but I'm not going to say it. I'm just not going to say it so she should really just...oh, now that's...that spot on the neck is a little ticklish, but nice. I could enjoy her licking right..._

"**OW!" ** Richard breathed heavily through clenched teeth as she bit hard on his neck. She bit her way down his chest, seeming to know just how much pressure to apply at each different point to find that razor-thin line where pain and pleasure merged. Richard felt his entire body grow hot as her teeth bit into his stomach. His muscles tightened, his fists grabbed the chain tighter, as if that could possibly accomplish anything.

He grew exceptionally tense when she grabbed his cock, expecting her to bite it as well. But to his relief, she took it into her mouth very gently. She was skilled, and it wasn't long before he was softly whimpering, and then more loudly begging for release.

"Getting selfish, aren't you?" Cat teased, as she tickled his back with something that felt like soft, supple leather straps. He shivered in anticipation. "Thinking only of your own enjoyment. Well, what about mine? Hmm?" The sudden slap across his back ignited a fire in Richard. She alternated the punishment with reward, frequently taking him into her mouth, or her hand, and building him to that cusp, only to suddenly stop and go back to flogging him.

She worked him, physically and verbally abusing him, knowing just where to lash, or what to say, to agonize him. It amazed him that she could know his deepest thoughts and fears, and she could use them to torment him. She questioned his honor, his morals, his integrity. She called him heartless, a coward, nothing but a shadow, broken, something that shouldn't even exist. It was nothing he hadn't thought about himself, many times, and when these thoughts passed his mind they left him feeling sad and broken. But as she taunted him, lashed at him with a well-used cat o'nine tails, he felt something defiant start to build.

_How dare she? Who the hell does she think she is? She doesn't know me! She has no right! I am not some broken piece of meat who blindly follows the first stronger man to come along! So help me if I get my hands on the fucking bitch I am going to strangle her. What is the point of insulting someone so? It's certainly not sexy, it's just mean and aggravating. I'll give her this, she's good with what she's whipping me with. That right there is worth this evening. The verbal abuse has to stop. She wouldn't be saying these things if I could actually get my hands on her. She'll free me eventually, and when she does? Oh, she had better run. Because when I get my hands free...hey, wait a...there's the lock connecting this damn chain to the collar, and there's the first lock she put on...but it's not really connected to anything! That means..._

Richard bowed his head, panting, his entire body trembling. He said, as meekly as he could manage "Please, mistress. May I, mm. Pleasure you in. mm, some way?"

"I might let you," she said, as if she would be bestowing a great favor if she did. Richard was tired of that tone. "What did you have in mind?"

"Whatever, mm, would make mistress happy." _Jimmy would laugh his ass off if he could see this. _

"Whatever would make me happy? Hmmm..." Richard could hear her pacing back and forth in front of him. That meant she wanted him to know where she was. So what was _she _planning? He felt her fingers ruffle through his hair, tensed in case she was going to pull it again, but she only gently pushed his head forward. As soon as his nose brushed against damp curls, he knew what she expected.

Although it was a slightly awkward angle, he ran his tongue between her legs, running it over her lips, flicking it against her clit. As he worked, she became vocal and bossy, telling him what to do and how to do it. He could feel her fingers flexing in his hair. Hoping she was distracted enough, he worked the buckle of the collar open. He held it still around his neck, waiting for the perfect moment...

"Oh fuck," Cat moaned. "You're really good at licking a girl's puss. You're so good at it, I'm going to let you make me come. You've been such a good boy, you deserve that much."

_Gee, thanks! Just what I always wanted! _Richard thought, slightly disturbed at the amount of sarcasm his mental argument was voicing._ Well, actually it is. And you probably figured that out, didn't you you fucking bitch? Well, enjoy it while it lasts..._

He felt her body start to tense, her moans grew louder. Richard got one of his feet underneath him, twisting his head slightly to make it seem like he was just trying to get better access to her cleft.

"Mm, thank you, mistress for. Letting me nibble. Your biscuit."

She snorted through her nose. "I'm sorry, did you just say 'nibble my biscuit'?" That was honestly the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard and she was trying very hard not to laugh, but she wasn't succeeding. She took a half step back, just far enough for Richard. He tensed, pictured in his mind what he was going to do, took a deep breath...

Cat was trying to compose herself, it was so hard to be unrelenting and mean when you were laughing, after all. _Nibble my biscuit...dear lord I thought I'd heard every euphemism for eating a girl out but surprise surprise, I just learned a new one. Gotta stop thinking about it. Can't wield a whip while giggling... _

So when Richard threw his arms forward, lunged at her and pinned her to the ground, she was quite taken by surprise. The breath was knocked out of her. He quickly placed one of his forearms over her throat, constricting her air somewhat, but not dangerously so. Her heart began to thud in her chest, and her arousal quickened. She enjoyed dominating, was quite good at it, but she loved being dominated.

Richard brought his face down to her ear and said in a very quiet, ominous tone "I am, mm... Done being toyed with. Bitch."


	3. Control

**A/N: Once again, while reading this: KNOW WHO'S BEHIND YOU (or next to you or whatnot)**

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**If you're trying to get a visual of what Cat might look like, think a really curvy Debi Mazar. But with pale, blue eyes. **

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**Also, I apologize for the long delay between chapters. This is more difficult to write than I had imagined. Because this goes against the actual absolute image of Richard I have in my head, I'm really having to beat him into submission (pun not intended, much)to get him to do this**

Control

"Olive," Cat replied calmly.

"What?"

"Olive. That's my safe word. Not that you'll actually make me say it. You're to nice. Too fucking...pure. The first time I say no, you'll stop, feeling all guilty that you really did something I didn't want you to do. So go on, get it over with. You're so worked up it won't take you five pokes and you'll be done." She spread her legs and thrust her hips up. Her pussy brushed against Richard's cock teasingly. He shifted his hips away. Too much contact and he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of plunging into her. She was right in that he was too worked up at the moment.

"I bet," she went on, her tone derisive and mocking, "that you've got all these images going through your head of what you want to do to me. And I bet they make you uncomfortable, because they're somewhat violent. Not the kinds of things a proper young man does to a woman. Things Mommy and Daddy told you were wrong..."

Richard thought she was taunting him, and in a way she was. But she was also trying to make clear to him that the game was still on, and he could do what ever he wanted to her. She was curious to see how far he would go, although she didn't think that would be very far. He seemed to restrained, although the fact that he lunged at her had been delightfully surprising. Maybe he could let himself go, if she kept pushing at him some.

"Well? Wait are you waiting for? Are you just going to hover over me or are you going to..."

Richard clamped his hand over her mouth.

"You need to, mm, shut up. Or else I'm...mm, going to strangle you." He meant it. He was easily imagining wrapping his hands around her neck and squeezing as he slid into her and fucked her. He was really enjoying that image, which yes, he felt guilty for enjoying but damn it he couldn't imagine anything more gratifying at that moment.

The only reason he didn't give into temptation was because he had a strong suspicion she would like it, and he didn't want to give her what she wanted right then.

"Where are the, mm. Keys, to these manacles?" She mumbled something under his hand that he didn't understand, so he pulled his hand away. "They're on top of the armoire over there," she said, squirming out from underneath him. "Here, I'll go get them." He heard her walk away, and slowly made his way to his feet. "You might as well take the blindfold off," she called. "Very hard to dominate if you can't see what's happening."

Richard hesitated "You don't, mm. Want to see..."

"That's your own insecurity talking," she snapped. "I don't give a fuck what you look like."

"I'm missing. Mm, an eye!" he snapped back.

"You're missing most of the cheek and part of your mouth too, but you still took off the mask!"

"I wouldn't have if, mm, I'd known you would. Lick my face!" he said, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.

"If I promise to not lick your eye socket will you take the fucking thing off?"

Richard pulled the blindfold off and threw it to the ground angrily.

"There! Are you, mm. Happy now?" His voice cracked some as he yelled. She simply smiled at him and tossed him the keys. He caught them and quickly began unlocking his manacles, glancing from her to the lock repeatedly. He freed his left wrist, but had a little trouble with the right. He looked down to try and awkwardly get the small key into the lock. His attention was quickly drawn back to her when a quick familiar _**crack **_popped an inch from his nose.

"Never focus away from the person you're dominating if you're not in complete control of the situation," she told him, an irritating smirk on her face. She cracked the bull whip once more, this time near his knee, making him hop half a step to the side. He glared at her, although he was more angry at himself for being so stupid. She took a step closer to him and cracked the whip a third time, this time making it pop near his stomach. She continued to bring the whip around, quite often coming a hair's breadth from his skin. He realized she was herding him to the far end of the attic, which at some point she had turned a lamp on to softly illuminate. Richard braced himself. He couldn't see the whip, for as fast at it moved, so it was blind luck that he was able to grab it as it snapped near his face. It hurt like hell, a stinging line of fire where it caught his forearm, and when she tried to tug it free, it took some skin from his palm, but he kept his grip. He watched her as her eyes widened slightly behind her glasses, then he gripped the whip in both hands and pulled as hard as he could. The first pull brought her halfway to him. She tried to pull back, but Richard held firm, and when she was done tugging, he pulled again, wrapping his arms around her as soon as she was near enough, pinning her body against his.

"I told you. Mm, I was done being. Toyed with," he said, his hands digging roughly into her flesh. "Did you, mm. Think I was...kidding?" He quickly spun her around, pressing her back against his chest, one of his hands groping her breast viciously while his other hands trailed down her body, between her legs. She moaned and trembled against him, desire coursing through her veins. In great contrast to the force of his hands, he lightly brushed his lips across her neck, starting just below her ear and trailing down to where her neck curved into her shoulder. When he mouth reached the juncture, he abruptly bit her. The way her body began to writhe was erotic, her hips brushing against his, her head thrown back, baring her neck. He softly kissed his way back up, finding the spot where her pulse raced, bit there, and loved the way her gasp made him feel. "Yes! Bite me! Harder!" he pulled his mouth away, pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, felt the juices flow between her legs, where he had cupped his hand, pressing and kneading. "You're not the, mm, one in charge. Right now," he growled in her ear. "You need to. Keep your, mm, mouth shut. Unless I tell you. To speak. Mm, understand?" She looked at him from the corner of her eye, her long black eyelashes a striking contrast to her pale blue eyes. He didn't see anything that resembled submission in them. But none-the-less she lowered her eyes and said in a soft voice "Yes, master."

With those two simple words, Richard felt more in control than he had in his life. Always, there was someone over him, first his parents, then his commanders in the army, then Jimmy, now Nucky. But here, she was placing herself totally under his command. Well, maybe...he had no illusions towards the fact that she could easily wrest control of the situation from him just as easily as she had just done. But if he could say firm, not lose control, for once he could be the one in charge.

He raked his teeth along her ear. "Turn around, and. Mm get on...your knees." She turned, pressing her body against his as she sank to the floor. "Would Master like me to suck his cock? Or perhaps his balls?" she asked.

"Right now, I want you mm, to just kneel in front of me. And be quiet." He needed a few more moments to calm down. He also needed to figure out what to do with her. He took the one manacle he'd managed to loosen and locked it around her wrist. At least he wouldn't have to worry about her getting away from him. He took a few moments to glance around the room, trying to figure out what to do with her.

"If master likes, he could always finishing cuffing me and attach me to that hook hanging from the ceiling," Cat suggested quietly when she realized he was somewhat at a loss for what to do. Richard looked up and around, spotting the hook attached to a rope that was strung through a pulley and anchored to the wall. Lacking any other ideas, he did just that, pulling the rope tight enough that she was forced to stand high on her toes. He left the collar on the chain...he imagined it around her neck at some later point although when that might be or what else he would be doing at that moment was unknown. He walked around her, reveling in the sight of her, captive. He let his mind go where it would, coming up with some interesting scenarios, although most of them seemed implausible and one he was pretty sure was physically impossible, but there were a few that might work. He stopped in front of her and asked "How strong is,mm. That pulley?" he asked.

Cat looked up and studied it for a moment. "Well, I know it can support my weight. It's anchored to one of the bracers for the roof, so it's a sturdy beam." She looked back at him, eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. "Why does master ask?"

"I would hate, mm. For it to come crashing down. When I. Do this." He bent down, grabbed her ankles, and quickly pulled her feet out from underneath her. She gave a startled shriek as he stepped back and brought her legs up so her heels rested on his shoulders. Then he just stood for a moment while she squirmed, trying to grip the chain between the manacles to support herself, although each movement she made had the rope swaying, which was not helping her any. She finally got herself as situated as she could and then looked at him down her body, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. Richard then lifted her legs from his shoulders and stepped close to her, lying her thighs on his shoulders.

Cat wasn't entirely sure she liked this, but that was point of it, wasn't it? It didn't feel safe, relying only on him to keep her from crashing to the ground. But then again his face was mere inches from her groin, she could feel his warm breath gently teasing her, so it couldn't be all bad. All he had to do was move his head forward just a little. She trembled, not only with the strain of holding herself up like she was, but also with anticipation and desire. She looked deep into his eye, trying to figure out what color it was. One moment it seemed almost greenish, the next almost amber, yet sometimes it looked a warm, rich light brown. It was quite fascinating, to be honest. And it was such a striking contrast to the gaping hole where his other eye should have been. The gaping hole that she steadfastly refused to look, for fear that her curiosity would lead her to stare. She was vulgar, and she was a bitch, but she wasn't rude.

He just looked back at her calmly.

Which turned her on all the more.

She wiggled her hips slightly, a mistake because that set the rope swinging a bit again. Richard grabbed her hips, stabilizing her somewhat, making her think he would begin to have his way with her.

"How did you, mm. Get into ...this?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"How did you. Mm, figure out you. Like this kind of..sex?"

"You have me hanging from the ceiling, my thighs are around your ears, you can do anything you want to me...ANY-THING," she emphasized, afraid that maybe that innate purity he had was getting the better of him. She hoped she hadn't gone too submissive too quickly. He needed to learn what control was, but...he seemed to react so well to goading.

"Mm, I know I can. Do anything," he said. "Right now. Mm, I want to. Talk. I'm very curious, how you, mm, found out this...appealed to you."

"One of the old bouncers smack me across the face when I was sixteen. It excited me."

"Why, mm. Did he smack you?"

"Probably because I told him his cock was small and that it needed to be hard so he could fuck me, and it wasn't. So he hit me a couple of times. But he wasn't the kind that got off on it, so he never did fuck me." She gave a small shrug, mindful that moving too much would set her swinging again. "What?" she asked in response to his look. "You asked. You certainly couldn't have expected a story about rainbows and kittens, given the topic."

"No. Mm, it's just...wrong. To smack a woman. In the face. No, mm. Matter what."

"Jesus," she muttered. "If that's how you feel you might as well just let me down now." Richard gave a shrug, put his hands under her thighs and lifted them from his shoulders, moved out from underneath her, and let her legs go, quickly stepping to the side to avoid the inevitable.

Cat didn't even have a chance to finish the 'oh shit' she'd started to utter before gravity took over. The sudden jolt to her shoulders was agony, her hands sliding quickly down the chain excruciating, and the swinging back and forth as she tried to get her feet under her didn't help either situation any. It took her a moment or two to stop herself, given how high Richard had run the rope, but when she finally did, she turned and glared at him, trying to lunge at him, which was futile since she was tethered to the ceiling and had little traction with her feet. "I'm going to kill you!" she screamed.

Richard stood back and cocked his head. "I thought you, mm. Said you could be. Mm, submissive?"

"Make me, you bastard," she snarled. She lunged at him again, and Richard couldn't help but smile at the pointless endeavor.

"I'm certainly, mm. Going to try." He walked a few steps away, grabbed the blindfold and walked back to her. He stepped behind her and carefully lifted her glasses off and slipped the blindfold over her eyes, carefully adjusting it so it covered her eyes completely yet still sat comfortably. "I'm going to, mm. Put your glasses. On top of the armoire," he told her. She nodded and shifted on her toes trying to ease the ache in her shoulders. This was shaping up to be quite exciting. She listened to him walk away, and shortly heard him poking around in what she referred to as her toy chest. She wondered what was going through his mind as he looked. Some of the things she knew he'd understand right off, but she also knew there would be a few items in there that would puzzle him, if not outright frighten him. She squirmed eagerly, hoping he'd pick something fun.

Richard looked at the neatly organized cupboard of toys and shook his head. Some of these things looked like... torture devices. That was all they could be. He glanced over at the her. There was something so...enticing...about having a woman bound and at his mercy. He knew the appeal was there only because she was willing. If she wasn't then this situation would be making him sick to his stomach. But she was willing, and she wanted him to give in to dark secret fantasies that he never dared think of. He ran his hand across a few of the items neatly arrayed in front of him. He heard her give a small, excited moan when his fingers made something made of chain lightly jingle. He grabbed it and examined the object, watching her dancing from toe to toe. Did she know what it was? Could she tell just by the sound of it? Was she hoping he'd use it? Or was she hoping he wouldn't? It looked more painful than pleasurable, in his opinion. But hadn't he just learned the joys of pleasurable pain? And didn't she seem to thrive on it? He grabbed the chain thing, and a paddle. He scooped up the cat o'nine tails that she had used on him, then took the toys back her when she stood, and dropped them all to the floor. He then walked behind her, skimming his hands up her hips, gripping them and pulling her back against him. She moaned when she felt his stiff member press against her. "Too much clothing," he murmured as his fingers danced down her thigh and began unfastening the garter straps that held up her stocking. When all four had been loosened he took a step back and began undoing the laces on the back of her corset. He worked quickly, wanting to expose her soft flesh, eager to begin toying with her the same way she had toyed with him. He finally peeled the corset off and brushed his fingers along the red marks the stays had left in her skin. "Is that thing, mm. At all. Comfortable?"

"Not really, but you must admit, I look good in it." Richard gripped her braid and gave a swift tug. "My apologies, master," she said "I sometimes forget myself, sir."

He pulled her head back further, baring her neck, bringing his teeth down and grazing them along her skin, lightly nipping here, quickly and viscously biting there, all the while running his free and over her body, but avoiding the areas she would most want him to touch.

He was starting to understand this game.

He eventually let her braid go and stepped back from her, picked up the paddle he had grabbed earlier, made sure he had a good grip on it, and brought it cracking across her ass. She gasped and jumped forward a bit, and barely had time to recover before Richard brought the paddle across her once more. She felt the sting, reveled in it as it spread a tingling heat throughout her body. He was forceful but not brutal, strong but not over-powering. He would spank her, then gently brush his hands over her reddened skin, the soft touch a drastic contrast on her inflamed nerves.

"Master is quite skilled at this," she panted after a rather hard smack of the paddle made her shriek with that particular pain-inspired pleasure she thrived on. Richard hadn't been sure if that had been a good shriek or a bad shriek, and had come very close to dropping the paddle and setting her free. But her statement goaded him to go further. He did drop the paddle, it clattered loudly to the floor and made her jump slightly. He stepped back to the rest of the things he had grabbed and picked up that chain that seemed to excite her so much. He ran it through his hands, watching her closely as she reacted to the sound. She tried to pull her shoulders back, impossible given her bound state, but she tried.

"You, mm, know what. I'm holding," he said, standing in front of her and jangling the chain.

"Oh, yes master," she breathed, straining her body towards him. "That's one of my favorites, and I would be ever so thankful if master would see fit to use it." Richard brushed the chain across her breast, listened to the low moan emerge from her throat, watched as her hips began to thrust. "Please, master? Please use it?" He let the chain fall to the floor, taking a small bit of sadistic delight at her disappointment. "Mm, no. Not yet," he told her before he grabbed one of her breasts roughly, squeezing it as he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked as hard as he could. He couldn't understand why her calling him master gave him such delight, or why hearing her beg and having the power to give or deny what she wanted made his pulse beat faster, or why knowing she was at his mercy made him feel so alive.

When he started using the cat o'nine tails on her back, Cat began to writhe and pant, each strike teasing every last nerve in her body. She'd been afraid he would be gentle, barely brush the straps across her skin. But he wasn't. He might have held back from using his full strength, but he flogged her good. She could hear him behind her, breathing heavily, occasionally emitting a low, almost evil chuckle when a particular smack made her cry out loudly. As he had done with the paddle, he would take a small break from flogging her to run his hands softly over her reddened flesh. The contrast between the sensations was so drastic that at one point a small sob broke from her throat.

"Are you, mm. Alright?" Richard asked, concerned in spite of everything. He hadn't been holding back, partially because he was afraid she would bitch if he gave anything less than his best effort, but also because he found himself high on the thrill. He was enjoying it, yes, immensely enjoying it. He didn't understand why, but it felt so right. But the thought of seriously hurting her appalled him.

She simply nodded, her head drooped forward, sides heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She gave a slight shiver as his finger brushed down her spine. There was no way she could explain to him what she was feeling or how it was affecting her. 

She felt his tongue running along the line of her shoulder. It was dry, almost rough, and it felt wonderful. She wondered how he had managed to make it so dry, but it didn't take long for her to realize how. The hole in his cheek...he was probably dying of thirst, and she hadn't even thought to bring up a pitcher of water before hand. When she realized how miserable he must be, her head jerked back, inadvertently hitting him in the forehead. "Sorry!" she said hurriedly, trying to turn to face him, pointless as it was since she couldn't see him. "I just realized you've got to be incredibly thirsty... give me a minute and I can get you something to drink..."

"I'm fine, mm. But thank you." His mouth was dry, but it he had learned to live with it. He had a small flask in his jacket if it became too bad. Besides, he didn't trust her not to try and regain control.

He slowly walked around her, trailing his fingers along her waist. He brushed along a jagged scar below her ribs, obviously not from a whip. Knife, if he was any judge of things. That probably had an interesting story that he would never work up the nerve to ask.

He stood in front of her and traced the shape of her lips with his finger. "Such a, mm. Pretty mouth," he said. "And yet. Mm, such...vulgar things...come out of it." She parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth, working it suggestively for a moment. She pulled her mouth away and said "You should try putting something in it."

That was exactly what Richard had been planning. He slapped her breast as he walked away from her, going to where the rope was anchored and abruptly releasing it. She fell in a heap as the rope stopped supporting her weight. She gave a small cry as she hit the floor. She brought her shoulders down slowly, inhaling sharply when her stiffened muscles protested. Richard waited a moment for her to orient herself, then he strode back to her. He wrapped her braid around his hand, pulled her up to her knees, and without warning shoved into her mouth,holding her head still as he pumped against her face. He looked down, watching himself slide in and out of her mouth. She was making small moaning sounds, the vibration echoed in her mouth and across his hyper-sensitive nerves.

"I need...mm, to. Fuck..you," he panted, needing to pull out of her mouth but unable to stop thrusting. "Now. Mm,...need...to. Fuck..." He finally managed to pull himself away, pulling her to her feet and dragging her to the bed against the far wall of the attic. He threw her down onto the bed and climbed between her legs, his arms under her knees. He hitched her back towards him and pulled her hips upward as he thrust at her. It took him a couple of tries to get into her, but once he managed to line up he psuhed into her as hard as he could. He lost himself to it, rapidly pumping his hips against her, feeling every lash mark, scratch and bite she had inflicted. They began to throb as his pleasure built, thrumming along his body, making everything more intense. He lost himself to it, some primal urge driving him. There was no nicety to the act, no consideration, it was pure and simple fucking. The need to bury himself deep inside of her was all consuming.

Somewhere at the edge of his mind, he could hear Cat grunting in time with his thrusts, and telling him yes, like that...pound me... He pulled his left arm from under her leg and quickly covered her mouth. "I think I, mm. Told you...a while ago, mm. To shut up." He punctuated his words with hard, deep thrusts. Her gasps and squeals were muffled by his palm. "You don't, mm. Listen very well." He felt her hands snake onto his shoulders, her nails digging painfully into his skin. "I think, mm. I know...what..I'm...doing...mm, at...the..moment..."

He hissed through his teeth as she clawed at his back. "You." _thrust _"Mm, fucking." _thrust _"Bitch."

Richard felt the orgasm slam through him more intensely than he could have ever thought possible. He felt it in every nerve, especially those spots Cat had paid her particular kind of attention to. He now understood the meaning of the word 'spent'. He had no energy, no ability or ambition to move, and although he seemed to feel EVERYTHING, he also felt strangely numb. He didn't even want to begin contemplating the jumble of emotions he felt, at least not yet.

He lay over Cat for a long while, eye shut, panting, and he realized she was licking the palm of his hand, which he had completely forgotten he'd placed over her mouth the quiet her. It took another moment for him to be able to move. He looked at her as he removed his hand, sliding it up to pull off the blindfold. She blinked a couple of times as her eyes adjusted to the light, then she squinted up at Richard.

"You alright?" she asked. Richard gave it some thought. He hurt, but he didn't. He didn't know if he was actually numb or not. And he couldn't decide if he loved the woman laying beneath him or hated her with every fiber of his being.

"Mm, yes,"he answered. It wasn't necessarily untrue. He slowly moved off of her, and managed to stand, although he had to brace himself on a bedpost at first to make sure his legs would support him. When he was sure he could walk, he grabbed his flask from his jacket, and her glasses and the keys.

He took small sips, his back turned to her so she wouldn't see how awkward even the smallest things were for him as she unlocked herself, then offered her the flask. She took it and sipped as he began dressing himself. "You're going to hurt in the morning," she said, looking at his back. It was red from lashing, and there were a couple bloody scratches. "wait, before you put on your shirt," she told him, walking to the armoire and pulling out one of the drawers. She pulled out a bottle of alcohol and some cotton. "Let me clean those scratches." Richard tried to look over his shoulder but couldn't see that far.

"Is that why, mm. They call you 'Cat'? Because...of your claws?"

She gave a small laugh, the first one Richard recalled hearing from her. "No. As long as this house had been her, the madam has always been 'Cat'. Sorry," she said when Richard hissed as she dabbed. "Did you like it?"

"Yes."

"But you feel guilty." Richard said nothing. "Well, if it's worth anything, you're pretty good at it. A little reserved sometimes, and too nice, too trusting. Maybe if I had goaded you a bit more, been less submissive..."

Richard didn't think she actually knew the meaning of the word.

"...but that's something to keep in mind for the next time."

"Who said. Anything about..mm, a next time?"

"Oh, you'll be back," she said as she wiped down the last scratch. Richard saw that irritating, knowing smirk on her face. She was right. He would be back. He was just going to see how long he could wait.


	4. Conflicting Interests

**A/N: Hey look! Plot! And yes, a wee bit of smut, but PLOT! And I realize the term 'come' probably wasn't around in the '20s, but I couldn't find any other euphemisms for the period, although I'm sure there were some that were just the bee's knees! **

_**Conflicting Interests**_

Richard hadn't realized how long he and Cat had been occupied, but when he got to his room and looked at his watch, he saw that it was after three thirty in the morning. He shook his head and gave a small smile, amazed that he'd lost himself for so long. It had been nice to completely forget everything about his life for a while, for his world to be nothing more than himself, Cat and whatever she had in hand. He undressed, wincing when his shirt pulled away from some of the scratches on his back. He neatly put away his things, set his mask on the small table near the bed, made sure he had a gun nearby, and laid out on his stomach. It was uncomfortable, because he was a good deal longer than his bed and his feet hung off the end, but there was no way he could sleep on his back or either of his sides without irritating his array of welts, scratches and bruises. His body was ready for sleep, but his mind was racing, replaying the evening, contemplating the emotions he had felt at various moments, examining himself in the aftermath.

He decided he should get over the shame and just accept that he liked it, and he would eventually go back to her. She was going to bring out the worst in him, but after the brief taste of it this evening, he wanted it. He wanted to let loose, forget himself. Or, maybe as Cat had said at the start of the evening, find himself.

He made enough peace with himself to drift off for a few hours sleep. When he woke up, he hurt. He inhaled sharply as he climbed off his bed. Between the uncomfortable sleeping position, and his abused back, moving was painful. A hot soak helped somewhat, although when he was dressed he realized his holster sat right on top of a couple of scratches, no matter how he tried to adjust it, and he didn't have any collars high enough to cover up some of the bite marks on his neck. Well, nothing to be done for it at this point.

He met with Nucky shortly after ten that morning. Nucky regarded Richard with a serious look in his deep set eyes.

"I take it your discussion with Cat didn't go very well," he finally said.

"We didn't really. mm. ...Talk."

"Jesus Christ! I sent you over there to get her out of that house! Not to fuck her! I expected you would just go in there and shoot her!"

"I won't shoot her, mm." He knew that the moment he lied to her about not being there because of Nucky. "I'd rather get. Her to leave, mm. Peacefully. Or at least...try to."

"Don't let her sink her claws into you, Richard," Nucky said, an almost father-like tone in his voice. "Those are dangerous games she plays." Richard gave a small nod but said nothing.

"Well, then... I need you to go to New York for me. Meet up with Rothstein's boys, Luciano and Lansky. They know what's going on."

"How long, mm. Will I be gone?"

"No more than a day or two. Why? Got a hot date scheduled?" The sarcasm in Nucky's voice was unmistakable, and Richard felt his nerves bristle at the not-quite insult.

"I wanted, mm. To know how much...to pack," he replied, his harsh voice all the more rough coming through clenched teeth.

"Like I said, a day or two. Pack accordingly. Come see me when you get back into town."

Richard nodded and turned away, stepping to the door.

"I want her out by September first, Richard. One way or the other."

Richard looked back at Nucky, nodded, and left to go pack.

* * *

><p>Cat also hurt that morning, but for the most part she adored it. The one part she didn't was her shoulders, which must have jarred harder than she first thought when Richard dropped her legs. She carefully moved them as she stretched, thought she should be okay after a day or two. At least, she hoped she would be. She wasn't as young as she used to be, and she hadn't been strung up like that in a couple of years.<p>

She groped for her glasses and sat up. She looked around the attic and thought. Richard was a good deal on her mind. He had potential. And he was probably inexperienced enough that she could easily mold him to what she needed him to be. She wondered how long it would be before he came back. She imagined he would try to stay away as long as he could, but he _would _be back. He just needed some time to process it all. But if she was lucky, he would have discovered that the brief taste of power he had over her was addicting, and when he came back, it would be with fewer restraints. She didn't have much choice but to wait and see what would happen.

She got up and threw on a light robe, straightened up the attic (she hadn't had the energy to walk downstairs to her room after Richard had left.) then made her way downstairs. She stepped into the kitchen, where she found Robin making coffee.

"Well, good morning," Robin said merrily. "I was wondering if you'd be joining the world before noon-time." Cat leaned against the counter and took the mug Robin offered.

"It's not that late, is it?" Cat asked.

"Going on eleven. Of course, it's been a while since you've worked such late hours. And since I heard most of it, I know it was...vigorous."

Cat smiled into her cup. "We didn't keep you up too late, I hope?"

"It's no big deal. I'm just glad you enjoyed yourself. But,...I'm not saying you don't know what you're doing when it comes to clients, Cat. But, is it wise to mess with that man? I mean, he's working for Nucky, and I don't need to remind you that Nucky wants you gone."

"I've been fucking men like this for almost twenty years, Robin. They change, but the things that drive them don't. He's got a..strength in him...and I think, if I can work him just right, I can use him to take down Nucky."

"Just be careful with this one, Cat. I think he's unlike any one else you've ever dealt with."

"I know," Cat replied, a slightly dazed, almost dreamlike look in her eyes. "That's what makes him so exciting."

* * *

><p>A week passed, and then two. Cat decided to move back into the attic. Not only would it make things more convenient whenever Richard showed up, but she could use her old room for another girl. So she hauled all of her possessions back upstairs and spent a few days arranging things, and another full day deep cleaning the bedroom she'd first entertained Richard in. It was the day after that, as she went through the mail, that she came across a letter addressed to Mistress Cat. The postmark was local, but there was no return address on the envelope. Curious, she opened it and pulled out the letter.<p>

_*Mistress, I will not lie. There haven't been very many moments these past two weeks where you have not been on my mind in one way or another. Not all of these thoughts have been flattering to you, but I imagine that wretched smirk of your is tugging at the corner of your beautiful, vulgar mouth, knowing this. It seems like the kind of thing you delight in. So yes, I have spent the past two weeks thinking of you, trying to determine if I love you or I hate you. It could be either, or perhaps both. I'm not entirely certain. One thing I AM certain of is that you do not know the meaning of submission. So, please, familiarize yourself with it._* And here, he had cut 'submission' from the dictionary and neatly glued it to the paper. Cat shook her head and continued reading._ *But don't worry about that right now. You actually being submissive (and I mean submissive as defined above, not your loose definition of the word) will come in time. The next time I visit (yes, you were right, you fucking bitch, there will be a next time, but I will decide when. You should know, I am infinitely patient. I have a feeling you are not.) I think I would prefer something along these lines:* _and here he went on to describe what he would like. Cat was surprised that he had even entertained this thought, even more surprised he wanted to explore it._ *This, I am sure fits with your nature and personality. If you have no objections, of course.* _It was signed _'Sincerely, Richard Harrow'_ which Cat was thankful for since she had no idea what his name was, and he had placed his address at the bottom. Cat grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and carefully wrote her reply.

_*Master, you've been on my mind a great deal as well. I still have a few reminders of our encounter. * _Mainly, her right shoulder still hurt if she moved it certain ways, and there were still a few bruises, and a spot on her neck where a bite mark was still visible. *_I appreciate your concern regarding my knowledge and your attempt to make sure I understand something. Please rest assured I was already familiar with the meaning of the word. But as I said, you must MAKE ME. You gave me too many opportunities to be defiant. Learn to control me completely, and I will submit to your will. (In others words, stop being so fucking nice and let yourself go!) As for your request, it sounds quite delightful, and I have no objections. I will let the girls know to let you in, any time day or night. Personally, I don't think you'll be able to go through with it. In fact, I'm willing to bet on it. If you do, it'll be on the house. But if I'm right, and you can't go through with it, you'll owe me a favor. Take your time in coming. The anticipation makes it all the more exciting. I'll end this letter by giving you the satisfaction of knowing that each night, before I go to sleep, I've been thinking of your gorgeous cock, remembering how good it felt when you were ramming it into me. I masturbate until just before I come, then I stop. But I keep myself near that peak by imagining you fucking me. Some nights just the thought of it can make me come hard. God, I can't wait until you come back and fuck me again. _

She didn't sign it, he would know who it was from. Let's see his patience deal with that, she thought as she folded the letter, placed it into an envelope and addressed it. She waited three days before mailing it, no need to seem too eager, even though she really couldn't wait until he came back.

* * *

><p>Richard was laying on his bed, Cat's letter clutched in his hand as he read it for what must have been the hundredth time in the week since he'd received it. Each time he read it, he had to suppress the urge to get dressed and go to her. It was getting harder and harder to do, but he finally managed to bury it. After a while, he smoothed the letter and carefully refolded it, placing it in the drawer of his nightstand. Then he laid back, locked his hands behind his head, bent his knees so his feet weren't hanging off the end of his bed, and spent ten minutes letting his mind wander to fantasies of Cat. She was bringing out the worst in him, even if she was only in his mind. There was no telling what would happen when he was actually with her.<p>

He kept temptation at bay for three more days. Finally he could no longer resist and made his way to her, creeping up to the attic once he was told where to find her. He quietly stepped into the room, it was illuminated only by the light seeping in from the windows. Moving as silently as he could, he made his way to the bed. She was laying on her side, sheet loosely draped over her body. In sleep, she looked kind, soft, and innocent...no taunting, no mockery, no smirk. She was serene and quiet. He reached out and swept aside a tendril of hair that had fallen in front of her eye, caressing the curve of her ear lightly as he tucked the lock behind it. She stirred at his touch, rolled over and blinked up at him. All she could see was a blurry silhouette, but it was an unmistakable blurry silhouette.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I, mm. Can't go through...with it. Not when, mm. You're so... calm." He ran his fingers along the underside of her jaw. "I'm sorry to, mm. Disappoint you. Let me know, mm...what that. Favor is." He turned and walked away.

"Richard, wait," Cat called as he reached the door. He looked back at her, saw that she was sitting up, the sheet held modestly in front of her. Her black hair was a riotous spill surrounding her head. Again, Richard was struck with how innocent she could look. "It seems silly for you to have come all the way across town only to leave right away," she said, licking her lips. She glanced down, then back at Richard. "Why don't you stay the night? And in the morning, well..." she trailed off and gave a small shrug. "We can see what happens then."

Richard hesitated, regarded her closely.

"I understand, if you'd rather not," she said softly, looking down. "I just thought, maybe..." and she trailed off, unsure how to finish.

"Mm, alright," Richard said after a moment. But he just stood by the door until she made a small waving motion with her hand. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door, along with his knife belt, then he slowly crossed back to the bed, displaying that uncertainty that often plagued him in those situations that seemed to echo what a normal life might be like, a life where he felt like he was welcome and loved and capable of loving back. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks, tucking them neatly under the bed, then removed his shirt, carefully folding it before setting it on the floor with his holster right beside it in easy reach, just in case. He looked over his shoulder at Cat, who after a moment said "It's dark, and I don't have my glasses on. I know you're looking at me, but I can't tell what you're trying to say or ask or whatever."

"I, mm. Was wondering how...comfortable. You mind me, mm. Getting."

"As comfortable as you want," she replied. Richard nodded and slipped out of his pants, leaving him only in his undershirt and shorts, placing them neatly on top of his shirt before he drew his long legs onto the bed and curled up into a tight ball, almost on the very edge of the bed, his back to Cat.

"You sleep with your mask on?" Cat asked quietly.

"My face isn't, mm. The kind of thing...you want to see. First thing. Mm, in the morning. Trust me."

"I really don't mind," she said. "But if you'd rather not, I understand. Good night." She settled herself back down and closed her eyes, her back to his, and her breathing soon becoming deep and even. Richard's lips briefly twitched into a smile. She was starting to trust him.

Cat feigned sleep until she thought Richard was just about out, then she snuggled a little closer to him, her back barely brushing his. His body uncurled slightly, and he drifted off to sleep. As the night wore on, Richard slowly stretched out, the first time since he'd come to Atlantic City that he slept in a bed that he could actually do so. He would occasionally partially wake when he rolled onto mask, after the third or fourth time he took the mask off and set it on the nightstand, then went back to sleep, at one point he rolled over and snuggled against Cat. She gave a drowsy, satisfied smile, figuring it wouldn't be long before he would do anything she asked of him.

Richard ended up taking over the entire bed before the night was through. Cat eventually got up, put on her glasses and went to sit in an old chair she'd placed in the corner of the attic. She sat and looked at Richard. He had ended up on a diagonal across the bed, long limbs flung every which way. It was quite different from the tight ball he had gone to sleep in. He didn't snore, but his mangled cheek produced a heavier breathy sound than usual. One of his hands was laying in a patch of light, his graceful fingers curled toward his palm. He turned his head slightly as he muttered something in his sleep that Cat couldn't make out. This left his damaged side open to Cat's view. She supposed it made sense that he was uncomfortable with his injury...that was half of his face reduced to gaping holes and thick scars. But (and she should probably explain this to him, it might make things easier eventually) Cat had a thing for scars. She looked at them as something to be proud of...it was a mark of survival. She wondered what exactly had happened, wondered if he would tell her if she asked. She thought about climbing on top of him, licking his scars until he woke up, see what kind of fuck he would give, but she brushed the thought away as she realized just how quiet the house was. It truly disturbed her, and her thoughts turned from Richard to what else she could do to hold Nucky at bay.

Richard woke slowly from the most restful, comfortable night's sleep he had had in longer than he cared to remember. It was nice to wake up and not have to uncurl stiffened limbs, or stretch a back that didn't want to unbend. It also helped the the mattress was so much softer than he was used to. He would have loved to lay there forever, but he sensed something wasn't quite right with the situation. He lifted his head and looked around, finally spotting Cat in the chair, gazing out the window. She looked in his direction when he sat up.

"Hello," she said softly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mm, yes, thank you." He realized he was taking up the entire bed and apologized."It's alright," she said quietly. Richard noticed the sad look in her eyes, then, and asked if everything was alright. He honestly expected her to snap at him for being so intrusive, but she surprised him by saying "Sometimes I get very depressed, thinking about how lively we used to be here. Especially in the small hours of the morning when there's no sounds. I remember, there was always something happening, and it was usually quiet loud. Well, it was when I was young. But now? If we get ten paying customers in a week, we consider ourselves busy. I should probably just give up, close the house...let Nucky have it all. But, how do you just give up the only home you've ever known?"

The look in her eyes almost tore Richard's heart out.

"You've lived here. Mm, you're whole life?" he asked, sliding to the edge of the bed.

Cat nodded but said nothing.

"Why, mm, does Nucky want you. Out?" he asked.

"He wants to demolish the entire neighborhood, build some fancy hotel and shops, make this part of town someplace tourists would want to visit. He doesn't realize, or care, more likely, that everyone who lives here lives here because this is either where they've always lived here, or because they can't afford to live anywhere else. No, it's not the fanciest part of town, but...we're trying so hard to keep it together, helping each other out as we can."

Richard gave a small 'hmm'. He had expected her to lie to him, but she didn't.

"Nucky needs me out because I've somehow become the leader of this neighborhood. As long as I'm fighting him, everyone else will. So that's why he stopped selling me liquor. People like to drink and fuck. If they can't do both in one place, they'll find someplace else to go."

"What if, mm. I...could get you liquor?"

"It would certainly be helpful, but I don't think your boss would take too kindly to it. Does he even know you've been here?"

Richard looked down at his hands and said nothing. "Oh, so you're sneaking behind his back, giving custom to a business he wants gone. He's going to pitch a fit once he finds out. And he will find out. Everything makes its way back to Nucky."

"He can, mm. Be oblivious to things...he doesn't. Want to see," Richard said, looking up and meeting her eyes. He thought about Eli Thompson. How the sheriff had plotted to kill his own brother, and worked with Jimmy and the Commodore to depose Nucky, and how Eli was still alive, still at Nucky's side, and yet Jimmy was dead. Dead at Nucky's hand. Cat tilted her head just slightly and said "Like the fact that one of his employees seems to be working against him?" Again Richard said nothing, although he didn't lower his head. He let Cat study him as she searched his face to determine the truth of his words. "Why?" she finally asked.

"He, mm. Killed Jimmy. He also, mm. Refuses to let me...kill the man. Who, mm. Murdered Jimmy's...wife."

"Why don't you just kill Nucky?"

"I...have reasons. They're. mm...complicated. I might, in the end, but I...want him to know that. All actions, mm. Have consequences. No matter who...you are."

Cat had to keep her excitement down. Could it really be this easy? She didn't completely believe it, but maybe...

"Would you be willing to help me fight him?" Cat asked. "Help the people in this neighborhood keep their homes and businesses?"

"How?" Richard asked.

"Get the house some liquor, and we'll go from there."

"Alright," Richard nodded. "Give me a, mm. Few days...to see what. I can pull together."


	5. Special Delivery

**A/N: Yeah, so my Meyer and Charlie need a lot of work (I ain't even gonna try Benny...) This is a plot chapter. More "Richard corruption" in the next chapter. **

_**Special Delivery**_

Richard went to a small diner not far from his boarding house and stepped into the phone booth, asking the operator to connect him to a number in New York. When Meyer Lansky answered, Richard stated his request.

"I believe we can easily accommodate that. But wouldn't it be easier for you to go through Nucky?"

"Mm, I'd rather he...not know."

"I see. You're in luck, because as it happens, Charlie and I will be in Atlantic City this weekend. Perhaps we could get together?"

"Mm, yes."

"Until then," Meyer said, hanging up.

Richard went home, took a bath, then took care of some of his daily duties. He made collections, took orders, paid a visit to Nucky's office although he avoided dealing with the man himself. Richard handed everything to Eddie Kessler, bid the overworked man a good evening, then headed home after that, not that there was anything remotely exciting to do there, but because he had nothing else to do. There was a boy sitting on the stoop, maybe nine years old. When he saw Richard he hopped up and said "You Mr. Harrow?"

"Mm, yes." Richard replied.

The boy pulled his cap of and pulled a folded piece of paper out, handing it to Richard. "It's from Miss Cat," the boy explained helpfully. "She said I was to wait in case you're gonna send a reply." Richard opened the note, read it and shook his head, his mouth turned up in a slight grin. He refolded the note, pulled out his wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill, trying to hand both to the boy. "You, mm. Didn't see me. Go on home, now."

The boy quickly held his hands up and refused to take the letter and money"Mister, I ain't gonna lie to Miss Cat. Not for five bucks. Not for five hundred, neither. I ain't gonna lie to her for nothin'" He looked around then leaned close to Richard and said quietly "She kilt a man for lyin' to her!"

"Did she, mm, now?"

"Uh-huh. See this guy, he lied to her about somethin' that he was gonna do for her, and he didn't do it or somethin' and she ended up killin' him by puttin' his eye out and he bled to death all over the kitchen or maybe it was the office but yeah, she kilt him. I don't wanna get kilt, Mister. I ain't even kissed a girl yet! I know which one I wanna kiss though. Miss Opal. She's real pretty. When I'm old enough, that's what I'm gonna do! Then I'll ask her to marry me, if she ain't already married." He paused for a moment, a look of deep thought on his face, then he added "But if she is married, maybe I can fight her man to the death, or somethin'. Girls like that kinda stuff, don't they? They think it's romantic, or somethin'."

"I think. Mm, it would depend on. The girl. Some might...not like the. Mm, thought of it. You might want. To check, mm. With her before you. Do anything...rash." Richard wondered why he, of all people, was giving advice about women to a young boy. As far as he was concerned, he was the furthest thing from an expert that you could get and still be human.

"I'll ask her," the boy said, nodding as if Richard had just explained the mysteries of life. "I still got a few years before I can kiss her, but it'd be good to know so I can make plans. Thanks! Say, whaddaya want me to tell Miss Cat? 'Cause, I gotta tell her I saw you."

"Just tell her, mm. I said. Thank you, and may. Mm, take her...up on it. Some time."

"Okay!" And the boy hopped off the steps and hit the sidewalk running. Richard watched him disappear, smiling ruefully to himself as he wished he was nine again. To be that young, and innocent, with an entire lifetime still ahead.

Richard went up to his room and pulled Cat's note from his pocket, giving it a quick re-read

_**Anytime you feel like spending a night in a bed that fits you, you're more than welcome to join me.**_

He looked at his pathetic little bed, thought about that large, soft bed of Cat's, and knew it was a very tempting offer, but one he couldn't afford to take up to much because that would be playing into Cat's hands. He knew she was manipulating him. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that was how things worked . Use whoever you could to get what you want. Nucky was using him to get Cat out. Cat was using him to get back at Nucky. And they both thought Richard was too stupid to realize it. He didn't know why people seemed to think he was a simpleton...did they assume he'd lost half his wits along with half his face? Was it because he so rarely said anything? Or perhaps because when he did say something, it took him so long to get it out? No one knew him before his injury, so they didn't know that he'd always been the kind of person to give a great deal of thought to something before he gave an answer, no one to know that he'd always been quiet, spoke only when directly spoken to or really felt the need to voice his opinion. The only time he could think of where he had initiated the conversation was that day in the hospital when he had first met Jimmy. But that had been different. Although he wasn't one who believed in fate, he firmly believed that he and Jimmy had been destined to meet. He'd known it the moment their eyes had locked. He sometimes wondered if he was supposed to save Jimmy...if he was, what was the fate of someone who failed at the task life at set for them? He sometimes wondered if Jimmy had been meant to save him...if that was the case, what now, now that Jimmy was gone? Sometimes he wondered if it even mattered.

He pushed those thoughts away for the times being. Now was not a good time to let the melancholia settle over him. Not when he was stuck between Nucky and Cat... Not when they both though he was working against the other. He had to keep his wits about him. He would like to have been able to detach himself emotionally from the situation, like he did with everything else unpleasant he had to deal with. And while he could somewhat do so with Nucky (anger at Jimmy's death still ran through him, although he could logically look at it from Nucky's point of view and understand that it was the only answer to Jimmy's betrayal. But the part of him that had found a brother in Jimmy hurt. Even all these months later.) But emotional detachment from Cat? Couldn't be done. That was part of her trade, after all. And although Richard had no experience with anyone like Cat he was willing to bet she was top notch at what she did if she could raise so many emotions in someone as emotionally traumatized as he was.

He still didn't know how he felt about her. This morning, when she'd been so sad and worried about the fate not only of her house but the entire neighborhood, Richard had sincerely wanted to fold his arms around her and tell her it would be alright. Instead, he had told her he wanted to take Nucky down. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to tell her that. But he had and there was nothing to be done for it now. He was just going to have to walk the very thin line between the two, try to maneuver them the way he wanted, much like they were doing to him.

He did whatever he could to not think of the matter for the next couple of days. He just went about his business, and when Nucky asked how matters with Cat were progressing, Richard gave a vague 'They're moving the way I want them' and left it at that.

When Friday came, Richard found himself standing behind Nucky while Nucky talked with Arnold Rothstein, who had Meyer Lansky and Charlie Luciano standing behind him. Meyer was almost as still as Richard, but Charlie was getting fidgety. Meyer nudged his friend with his elbow, then shot a long suffering look at Richard, as if to say 'See what I have to put up with? Every day, man...every day.' Richard's mouth ticked up into a brief smile. He couldn't help but like Meyer. The little man was polite, quick, and preferred to find a logical, calm solution to things if possible. He also treated Richard with respect, and Richard remembered how, at Jimmy's funeral, Meyer had come up to him, placed his hand on Richard's arm, and simply shook his head sadly. There had been tears in the short man's eyes, and that meant a great deal to Richard.

Charlie wasn't as easy to like, although he had a certain charm that could win over even the hardest heart, if he put his mind to it. But he was too sure of himself, too confident in his good looks and youth. Charlie could anger quickly and tended to say the first thing that came to mind, not thinking how it might affect things. Charlie wasn't as friendly to Richard as Meyer, but the two men had such vastly different personalities that it was understandable.

"Join me for dinner, Arnold," Nucky was saying. "Margaret would be delighted to see you."

"It will be my pleasure," Arnold replied. He looked back at Charlie and Meyer and said "I trust you boys can stay out of trouble for the evening." Charlie gave an innocent grin that was anything but coming from beneath those dark brows while Meyer said "Of course, A.R." He sounded sincere.

"Richard," Nucky said before he could step away. "I need you to take care of this before tomorrow morning." He handed Richard an envelope that had been sitting on his desk. Richard nodded as he took the envelope, then he walked out of the office with Meyer and Charlie.

"We got Benny waitin' for us," Charlie said, once there were quite a few doors between them and their bosses. "He's got the truck with what you asked for."

"Mm, thank you," Richard said. "We can. Head there...now. Mm, if you. Like?"

* * *

><p>Cat was in the kitchen with Candy and Violet when a truck marked Switzer Bros. Produce pulled up in the alley behind the house.<p>

"What the hell?" Cat asked, her brows coming together as she frowned. Why was the truck pulling up here? When she saw Richard hop out of the cab, it didn't necessarily make sense, but she relaxed some. She stepped out onto the back stoop and watched curiously as Richard and three men she didn't know (or possibly one man and two boys, the short one and the gangly one looked rather young) went to the back of the truck and each pulled out a crate and brought it up to the house.

"What's all this?" Cat asked as the men (well, three men and a boy...the lanky one couldn't have been a day over sixteen, the short one didn't look much older but he was definitely a man) approached. Richard gave the crate a gentle shake, and she heard the unmistakable sound liquid filled glass bottles make when they clanked together. Her blue eyes widened and her beautiful lips parted in surprise.

"You got it?" she asked, a grin spreading across her face. Richard nodded "Oh, Richard!" The look of delight on her face was remarkable to Richard, and he felt pleased with himself for making her so happy. "Here, come on in," she said, holding the door open and letting the men carry the crates inside. They set them down where there was free space. Cat looked at the crate Richard set down and smiled. It was marked 'Olives' "Cute," she said, a small laugh in her voice. Richard smiled back at her, and the smile brought out faint laugh lines around his eye, indication that once upon a time, he had been a happy young man. "I thought...you, mm. Would appreciate. It," he said.

"What's so funny?" Charlie asked as he set his crate down on the counter next to Violet, who was busy mentally undressing the dark haired man.

"I don't think you really want to find out," Cat said after she looked at him for a long moment. "I don't think it's your thing."

"What ain't my thing?"

"Me," Cat replied simply.

"What's that got to do with olives?" Violet leaned in and whispered in Charlie's ear, taking the opportunity to run her fingers through his soft, glossy hair as she did so. When she was done, Charlie looked at Richard and said "So when you came up to New York a few weeks ago lookin' like you'd gone ten rounds with Dempsey, and you're explanation was 'cat fight', you meant her?" Richard nodded. Charlie regarded Cat carefully. She eyed him coolly, knowing he was trying to decided if he wanted to try her. "You might be my kinda thing," he finally said.

"Any time you want to find out..." Cat offered.

"I'm free at the moment."

"Ahem? Perhaps we could conclude our business before you go tear each other to pieces?" Meyer said.

"What are your terms?" Cat asked.

"First, I'm interested to know why you couldn't just get this from Nucky."

"I have reasons," Cat said. "Why is it any business of yours?"

Meyer leaned his elbow on the crate and said "Because I do not need to get in trouble with my boss for doing something that goes against the interests of one of his associates."

"Then you might as well take it back, because I assure you, putting that booze in my hands very much goes against Nucky's interests."

"Why?"

"He's trying to get me out so he can tear down this neighborhood. So he won't sell me liquor. I'm trying to fight him, save the neighborhood."

"Why?" Charlie said. "It's just a buncha buildings."

"No, it's not!" Cat cried. "This is our home! This is where we were born, where we lived, were we'll die. My family has has run this house for four generations. Don't tell me it's just a bunch of buildings!"

Her passionate outburst brought color to her cheeks and a light in her eyes that Richard found alluring and almost irresistible. It made him want his declaration to stand against Nucky to be the truth of things.

"Nucky is not one to take defiance well," Meyer said, looking at Richard. Richard couldn't hold the man's eyes. They were both thinking of Jimmy. Maybe they were both thinking of Richard, too.

"I know," Cat said. "But I'm not one to just give in, and Nucky knows it. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of going down without a fight." Her back was straight, her jaw set stubbornly. She gave Meyer a hard, steady look. It was a long, tense moment in that kitchen. Cat knew the fate of her house, and of the entire neighborhood, was more or less in the hands of this man. He could very easily take that liquor back, and that would be the end of it.

Meyer studied Cat for a long moment, then looked to Richard.

"You know how this could end," Meyer warned. Richard nodded and said "I have, mm. Thought this out."

Meyer looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps give Richard warning that he would end up just like Jimmy. But something in the tall marksman's eye stilled his tongue.

"As it so happens," Meyer said, turning back to Cat, "it would be advantageous to us at the moment for Nucky to be...irritated."

"Honey," Cat said as a smile slowly spread across her face, "leave those crates and I guarantee I will do more than irritate Nucky. What else do you want in return?"

"It's all been taken care of," Meyer replied, giving a nod in Richard's direction. "Charlie, Benny, let's go get the rest of the cases."

"The rest of the cases? There's more?"

"Yes, ma'am," Meyer said. "Give us a minute." And he followed Benny and Charlie outside.

Cat turned to Richard, studied him for a moment, then threw her arms around him.

"Thank you," she said. "I didn't think you meant it. But you really did."

Richard said nothing, held very still in her arms, unsure of whether he should embrace her in return. He wanted to, but he also didn't. He felt an intense level of awkward at the moment. It was instantly raised when her mouth pressed against his. He could feel the silken plumpness of her lips against his, feel the pressure against his mask. He stood still, not exactly petrified but feeling close.

"What happened, mm. To the rule about..no. Kissing. On the, mm...mouth?" he asked when she pulled away.

"It's my house," she said in his ear. "I get to make, or break, the rules as I see fit. Come upstairs. Let me thank you properly."

"I, mm. Have something. I...need to do," he said regretfully. He really did want to go with her. "I could...come back. Mm, later."

"I hope you do," she said as Meyer, Charlie and Benny walked back in, each carrying two cases of liquor, which seeing Meyer do that was amusing because all Cat saw was the top of his forehead over the top of the crate. Richard said good-bye to the men from New York and quietly left the house.

"This should hold you for a while," Meyer said as he set his load down.

"Not for what I have planned," Cat mused. "But I'm sure we can make another arrangement as needed." She looked at Meyer, Charlie, and then Benny. "Gentlemen, please allow the house to show our appreciation. Candy, if you will take care of the young man here," Cat waved her hand at Benny. "You two," she said to Charlie and Meyer. "Come with me please."

* * *

><p>Richard walked to a small park a few blocks from Cat's house, sat down on a bench, and listened to the birdsong in the warm, twilight air. He hadn't realized how much she saw as salvation those ten measly cases of booze. But she thought it would be the cure to all of her problems. And maybe it would fix some of them. For a time, anyway. But what about the problems she didn't know she had.<p>

Mainly...him?

He sat and contemplated a scuff mark on his left shoe, trying to think what he was going to do. His comment had been spontaneous, but perhaps he had meant it, deep down. And the way Cat had looked...oh, how that look made him want to help her.

But what could he do? What good was he at anything other than killing? The only way that could be useful was if he could bring himself to kill Nucky. And he couldn't do that. Nucky had been kind to him when he came to Atlantic City, given him a job, given him a place to stay. After Jimmy's death, Nucky had given Richard more work, more responsibility.

_Jimmy told me once that you are loyal, and dedicated, Richard. I need men like that working for me. Can you be loyal and dedicated to me, Richard?_

_Mm,...yes._

He had thought he could. He had thought he'd be able to push aside the pain of Jimmy's murder and for a while he had been able to. But then Nucky had sent him to oust Cat, and now nothing in Richard's head seemed to want to stay quiet, like it used to.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and pulled the envelope Nucky had given him out of his pocket. He opened it, read the instructions, and thought about what he would need for the job. Nothing to heavy, really. His Colt would be fine. He had time...Nucky said before morning, and it had just turned full dark as Richard sat and contemplated the dilemma facing him. And so he sat a while longer, thought about it all, came no closer to a solution. It was close to midnight when he finally rose from the bench and headed to the address Nucky had written down. As he walked, he pushed aside everything that wasn't needed for the job at hand, any thought except what he was doing at the moment, all emotions, all his humanity. It was dark and lonely in this state, but here, life was so simple. There was no need for thought or compassion, no confusion, no issues, no conflict.

There was only the bang of the door hitting the wall, the weight of the gun in his hand, the sound of it firing, the acrid scent of gunpowder and the coppery tang of blood. He finished the job per Nucky's instructions, checked himself over to make sure he'd gotten no blood on him, then headed back to Cat's house, his body thrumming with a strange energy that begged for release.


	6. You Know What They Say

**A/N: Just a reminder, this is a not safe for work chapter. If you don't like the thought of Richard as anything other than a super-sweet cuddly scrapbooking murderer, do not read this chapter. You may think 'Oh my god that's disgusting'. But dear goodness this is fiction, based on fictional characters, and it is what it is. **

**The song is 'O Dry Those Tears', composed by Teresa Del Riego in 1901**

_**You Know What They Say About Books and Their Covers**_

Richard silently crept into Cat's room once more, but this time he was not moved by how calm and innocent she appeared while she slept. Still in the detached state from the earlier kill, he felt nothing, would be moved by nothing. She didn't think he could go through with it, and normally he wouldn't be able to. But he would prove to her this night that things were not always what they appeared, and maybe she would begin to realize that he was capable of things no one would expect from him. Let this be a warning to her. Maybe she would figure out that he could use her just as ruthlessly as she was trying to use him. Standing at her bedside, he stared at her dispassionately. She was curled on her side, a pillow hugged close to her stomach. Her bedside lamp was on, she had fallen asleep reading.

He wondered if she fucked Charlie or Meyer. Maybe she fucked both of them. He wouldn't put it past her. She would try to manipulate them, too. They could bring her liquor. Richard could help her take Nucky down. She could have herself a nice little fuckfest and get whatever it was she wanted. Fucking bitch. Richard was tired of being used. He was tired of being treated like something less than human. He normally couldn't act out on it, that would involve him shooting a lot of people and someone who didn't deserve it would likely get hurt if he did, but here, now... Cat thrived on this sort of thing, and she would love every degrading, humiliating moment of it. It might not 'show her who was boss', but she would see that he was more than the polite, gentle man she assumed he was.

Cat woke up when she felt a hand clamp over her mouth, trapping the instinctive scream that welled in her throat. She was rolled onto her back, fear flowing through her veins, quickening her desire as soon as she realized what was happening. Sick as most people viewed it, Cat usually liked this scenario. It was exciting when done right. But tonight was not the night for it. She tried telling him to stop, but his hand muffled her words. He was probably doing that on purpose, she thought as she heard her nightgown tearing. If he can't hear me say stop he'll be less likely to do so. She struggled, although that was playing right into what he wanted. She was surprised he didn't stop the instant she showed resistance. Not that she really wanted to resist. Her period had started about an hour after Richard had shown up with the liquor and the men from New York, and Cat was one of those women who walked around in an almost constant state of arousal the first few days of her period. So she really wanted to rip off Richard's clothes and fuck him silly, not act like the last thing she wanted was for him to do just that to her. But at the same time, she wasn't exactly up for it. Too tender, too messy. And she was pretty sure Richard wasn't the kind to be aroused by the sight of so much gooey blood. She tried to push his hand off of her mouth, to tell him why tonight was not the night for him to ignore her resistance, but he was too strong for her to break free. When his other hand groped at her sore swollen breast, she made a sound that was part moan, part whimper. It hurt, deliciously. But she still resisted, curious to see if he could go through with it, even if she didn't really want him too. Who the hell was she kidding, she wanted him to...she wanted him to give in to his most depraved thoughts, because she imagined they were excitingly wicked and _she wanted that. _ She wanted to find that chink in his armor and make him break free, letting it all out, direct it all at her.

When his hand left her chest, she tried to push him off of her, to no avail. She stopped struggling when something glittered in the light...a knife. Richard held it in front of her eyes from a moment, then lowered it, slipping it under the leg of her panties and quickly cutting through the fabric, first on one side, then the other. He would probably notice her sanitary napkin soon, and stop.

But she didn't know that Richard was in a state where, while he was aware of everything, he wasn't processing it like he normally would. It was how he got through the things that clashed with his nature. It would hit him, later. And chances were that tonight, the backlash would be so much worse, but he needed to prove to Cat that she did not know him like she thought she did. He would hate himself in the morning. He always did after a killing, and given what he was doing to Cat it was going to be awful but right now he didn't care. He cut through Cat's panties and let the knife clatter to the floor. He loosed himself from his pants, he had never understood why he got a hard-on after a killing, but at least for once it was something more than an embarrassing inconvenience. He pushed her legs apart with his knees and pushed into her. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that she was slicker than normal, too slick really, there was no friction for him, not enough anyway for him to make headway. After a moment of mindless thrusting he moved his legs to the outside of hers, pushing her legs together to tighten around him. It helped, although this was an act he knew he would get no real satisfaction from. It was just something that had to be done. Prove a point. Send a message. It was how things went around here. So he did what had to be done, giving it no more thought than was needed.

Cat winced when Richard pushed into her. It wasn't painful as far as things went but it was tender down there, but she could honestly say that she was enjoying it. She was puzzled by the entire situation, however. Richard hadn't said a word, but something about him seemed...not right. She couldn't put a finger on what it was. But he was going about this almost mechanically. He obviously figured something wasn't quite right, he threw his legs over hers and forced her legs together. She figured she was too slick for him to really feel much otherwise. He kept his hand over her mouth, the weight of his body kept her from struggling. In out in out his motions were so rhythmic they could have been set by a metronome. She lay beneath him, eyes squinched shut, and she couldn't help but wonder why he was doing this. She doubted it was because it had been a long held fantasy of his. Was it because she had doubted he had it in him to do it? Was he just trying to prove to her he could? Was it maybe his way of telling her he would rise to any challenge she put before him? That thought made her shiver beneath him. If that's what it was...oh, the fun they could have together!

Richard got no gratification from the act, not that he expected to, not in his current mind set. It was somewhat like a yawn, you need to yawn, you yawn, and then life went on. It was orgasmic in no way what so ever, he only felt hollow when he was done. He lifted himself from Cat, only peripherally aware that she mumbled something under his hand. He didn't care what she said. He needed to get out of the house, back to his own room, before the backlash occurred.

"Don't panic," Cat tried to say through his hand. She didn't want him to glance down, see the mess, think the wrong thing. But he ignored her. He was putting himself away with one hand, the other still over her mouth. Only when he had moved off the bed did he remove his hand.

"Richard," Cat called as he walked to the door. "Richard!" But he ignored her, opening the door and walking out.

'Well...shit,' she thought. She kind of figured, if he ever did bring himself to go through with what he just did, he would fall on top of her begging forgiveness, weeping over the thought that he might have hurt her or violated her in some way. She didn't think he had truly grasped what turned her on, so she had expected to use his guilt to turn him towards her purposes. But he had just come in, fucked her without a word and left. She got up and cleaned up, taking a quick shower and changing her bed sheets. She then sat in the chair and tried to make sense of what had just happened. She was stunned, and slightly shaken. Had she lost her knack for reading her clients that she'd been so wrong about him? She would never have thought...true, she didn't give it as much resistance as she could have, maybe that had allowed him to get through it? She didn't know. Something had seemed off about him. There was a certain aura surrounding him that she hadn't been able to figure. He hadn't said a word, hadn't really seen her at all as near as she could tell. It was almost like he hadn't really been there. She wondered what that mood was, and what had set it off. She then wondered what else he could be capable of in a mood like that. It could be very good for her. Or, it could go very wrong, she had to admit. She obviously didn't know him like she thought she did. He had done something unexpected tonight, and it had shaken her a bit. She didn't like the unsettled feeling deep inside of her. She decided she was going to have to do something completely unexpected in return to throw him off balance. If that was even possible.

* * *

><p>The trembling started before Richard reached his boarding house. By the time he got to his door, he was shaking so badly that he dropped his key twice before he managed to shove it into the key hole. It was when he picked it up the first time that he noticed the blood on his hand. <em>But there was none on me after the killing* <em>he thought._ *I checked. I couldn't go to Cat with blood on my hands...Oh God...Cat...what did I do to her. I raped her. She tried to stop me but I didn't stop. I had to make her see that I could do what she didn't think I could do. I had to make her see that I can hurt her. I'm dangerous. I don't even know my own mind. I'm not right anymore. There is nothing inside me but death and destruction and hurt and pain. She wants me to hurt her and I can hurt her. I must have hurt her badly. Look at all this blood it's on my hand and my pants. I must have brutalized her and I didn't even know it because I was so wrapped in that detachment that I couldn't even feel anything. God what has she done to me? I should have just done what Nucky told me to do. I should have just shot her that first night but I didn't because I really think she's right to try to save the neighborhood. Nucky told me to get her out and I said I wanted to do it my way. I wanted her to trust me and all I've done is gotten wrapped up in her games and she has her claws in me and I can't shake them loose. I don't want to shake them loose. I want the power she makes me feel... I was in control over her. I can be in control over her. I can make her submit. I have to make her otherwise I will have to kill her and I don't want to kill her. I __don't want her to end up dead like that man tonight. That man shouldn't have had to die. I don't think he did anything wrong but he had to die to send a message... prove a point. Why did I have to be the one to deliver the message? They say don't shoot the messenger but damn it what happens when the messenger is the shooter? What has happened to me? Why am I like this? Why can I be normal? Why can I figure out how to fix what's wrong with me? Why can't I be what I want to be? I used to be good but that was so long ago... I tried to do the right thing. I wanted to do something noble. I wanted to make the world a better place or at the least keep it from getting worse. And now all I do is kill..._

He managed to make it into his room and push his door shut, but just barely. He collapsed on the floor and curled himself into a ball as his body began to tremble. Scenes of death flashed through his mind, deaths he had been responsible for. Some from the war, German soldiers who were probably no different from him but they had to die or else they would kill him. Those he could almost justify, it was war, after all. But the worst...those started with a man in a diner in Chicago and went through a long line, each one a stab to Richard's soul, one more piece of him dying inside. Eventually he feared there would be nothing left but a shell, but for now there was enough of him left to feel guilt, remorse, and anguish. He was horrified at what he had done, what he had become. He covered his head with his arms, pulled himself into a tighter ball, silent sobs wracking his body. With his face buried like it was, it was hard for him to breathe. He didn't care. _Let me suffocate, _he thought, wanting so badly to scream but not daring too. _Let me die. Let me not wake up tomorrow. Let this be the last miserable night I spend on Earth. Please God just let me die. _

It went on and on inside of Richard, and he could do nothing but lay there and go through it, as he did each and every time, the repressed emotions breaking free and lashing at him. He shook and silently cried and was trapped within himself for he didn't know how long. It was an eternity to him but in real time who really knew.

He became aware, eventually, of a hand rubbing his shoulder, and a sweet, clear voice singing a soothing song

_O dry those tears,_

_And calm those fears,_

_Life is not made for sorrow;_

'_Twill come, alas!_

_But soon 'twill pass,_

_Clouds will be sunshine to morrow;_

'_Twill come, alas!_

_But soon 'twill pass,_

_Clouds will be sunshine tomorrow._

_O life thine eyes_

_To the blue skies,_

_See how the clouds do borrow_

_Brightness, each one,_

_Straight from the sun;_

_So is it ever with sorrow._

'_Twill come, alas!_

_But soon 'twill pass,_

_Clouds will be sunshine tomorrow;_

_Then life thine eyes_

_To the blue skies._

_Clouds will be sunshine tomorrow._

She kept singing, and Richard cautiously uncurled, his breaths coming in hitches as he slowly calmed down. He wiped his face with his sleeve and sat up, turning his back to her.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was quiet and kind.

"That's, mm. A stupid..fucking question," he snapped.

"You're right...I'm sorry."

"Mm, how did. You get in? And why, mm. Are you...here"

"Your key was in the door," she said. "I came by because...I guess I wanted to make sure you...didn't think the wrong thing when you saw all the blood."

Richard looked at his hand. Although most of it had rubbed away during his fit, he could still see her blood in the deeper lines. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Please don't be."

"Don't tell me. Mm, you...enjoyed that." Her silence made him turn around and look at her. She was leaning against his bed, a small smile on her face.

"What?" she asked when he faced her. "You said not to tell you I enjoyed it, so that killed my end of the conversation."

"What. Mm, is _wrong _with...you?" Richard cried, quickly rising onto his knees and placing his hands on the bed beside her head, leaning very close to her. "You, mm...weren't supposed...to, mm. Like that! You were. Supposed to. Understand that, mm. You don't...know me. As well. Mm, as you...think. You were supposed. Mm, to realize. I can do things...to hurt you. And when. Mm, I'm...doing them. I won't. Give. a. Damn."

Cat realized she should have been rather frightened. And there was a small bit of fear inside of her, but as usually happened to her, that fear turned itself into desire. She tried to suppress it, now was not the time. "I know," she said. "I do understand that." She tried to keep her voice even, but it was hard. She was tired of having to defend what she was to people, especially the people who she thought would best understand. "But you need to understand that I am what I am. I have made no pretense about that. But why is what _I _like the dirty thing, the perversion? Why does there have to be something wrong with me because of what I get off on, huh?" Her eyes blazed behind her glasses, temper and pride coming through. "There is not one damn thing wrong with me for liking pain or domination. There is nothing wrong with the fact that when I felt your hand on me, I wanted to throw you on the bed, pull your cock out and ride it like a pogo stick. The only reason I didn't was the fact that I'm on the rag and I didn't think you'd appreciate getting all bloody. Yes, my dear, I am on the rag...I have been in a high state of arousal all fucking day, and it about drove me nuts. So yes," she said, bringing her face close to his. "I enjoyed it."

Richard's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper in check. "Why don't you. Mm, have the sense...to see. That, mm, I'm...dangerous."

"Why don't you have the sense to see that I _want _that." She took a deep breath and backed away slightly. "Maybe you'll say I'm trying to put a noble purpose on something wicked, God knows you won't be the first. But...I've had clients who used to come to me to blow off steam, or to...to...when they felt the need to lash out or hurt someone, but they didn't really want to hurt them, sometimes they would come to me to relieve that need. I know I saved one or two housewives a severe beating. If I'm willing and able to take something painful in the place of someone who does not want or deserve it, why is that bad?"

"It's, mm, not," Richard told her. "But you..." He sighed and sat back on his heels. "Mm, you're going...to get yourself. Killed, someday."

"Probably," she said softly. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I...goaded you into all of this. I should have just let you leave that first night. Hell, I should have put you on one of the other girls. You'd be a lot better off if you had never fucked me." Her eyes softened as she looked at him, and she slumped a little, some of her confidence seemed to evaporate. "I needed you to help me save the neighborhood, but I shouldn't have been so underhanded about getting it. I didn't quite believe you when you said you weren't there for Nucky. I figured maybe I could get you to tell me something useful, especially when you said I was the one you wanted. And you started off so politely, with your 'please' and 'if I may'! But when your passion flared, and you started to get more forceful...and the way you responded when I told you to fuck me harder...God, it was..." She bit down on her lower lip as tried to keep her lust down. This was getting ridiculous...trying to have a serious conversation and all she wanted to do was throw him down and have her way with him. It was getting awfully warm in the tiny room. "You gave this low growl in your throat, and you started pounding me, and it was the most fantastic sensation, and I thought maybe you'd be good at domination. But...I wanted to see if you would bend to my will. When we were in the attic, I thought I had you. I thought you were in my control. But then you pounced on me, and took over..." Richard remembered the way her eyes had widened when he lunged at her, remembered that surge through his body as he gained control, brief though that first bout was. "You held back. There is something inside you...if you let it loose, I...I would..." She licked her lips, and her brows drew together as she tried to explain herself. "I want what's inside of you. I want your pain, your anger, your hatred. I want...I want to take it from you, I want you to let it out. I want to feel it, so that for a little while at least, you don't have to. Please, if you can, if you want to, give it to me."

"You don't, mm. Know what...you're asking, Cat."

"Maybe not," she said, looking into his eye. "But I know what I'm offering. Maybe you won't have to go through what you just went through." She looked at him compassionately, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his. "And tonight, I'm offering you a comfortable bed to sleep in. I think you need a good night's sleep, and it's not going to happen on this bed," she motioned with her head. "You can take a long, hot bath, I'll see what I can do about getting the blood off your pants, and maybe in the morning you'll feel better."

Richard narrowed his eye suspiciously. "Why, mm. Are you being. So honest, mm, and...nice?"

"It's probably because of my period," she said. "Apparently I'm going through a nurturing mood swing. But if you tell anyone I will deny it and then flog you mercilessly." She sounded so haughty that Richard couldn't help but laugh slightly. "I'm quite serious," she said.

"Mm, I know."

"What do you say? Come with me, please?"

Richard knew he shouldn't, but he nodded and stood, offered Cat a hand up, and put a change of clothes in his satchel.

"Please don't push me off the bed tonight," she said as they climbed into her car. "If I don't get a good night's sleep tonight, I'm going to be a raging bitch in the morning."

"You? Mm, never."

"Sarcasm, sir?"

Richard titled his head and gave her a small grin. It was adorable and Cat had a sudden urge to feed him warm cookies and cold milk. _God damn period..._


	7. When You Take, You've Got To Give

_**When You Take, You've Got To Give**_

Cat drew Richard a hot bath and took his clothes, leaving him to clean and relax as he wanted while she did what she could to clean the blood from his clothes. It was something she had practice with. She scrubbed most of it out, then left it to soak over night. Then she gently knocked on the bathroom door and opened it far enough to peek in when Richard called permission. He was rubbing his hair dry with the towel, feeling somewhat better for being clean.

"You want something to eat?" she asked quietly.

"Mm, no. thank you." He slipped his mask on and gathered his things, following her up to the attic, looking at her nervously as she took his towel and the rest of his things from him. "Go lay down," she said gently as she put things away. Richard cautiously sat down on the bed, and after a moment of internal debate took off his mask, then laid down, curling himself into a ball. "I think you should just stretch out," she said as she joined him in bed. "Maybe if you go to sleep already sprawled, you won't take over my bed?" her tone was light and kind. She set her glasses on the table neck to Richard's mask and cut the light, curled up beside him, clutching the pillow to her stomach; damn cramps were the wretched frosting on an already shitty cake, weren't they just? Richard uncurled his body, felt Cat's back against his. It was calm, and peaceful. He felt the last of the tension ease from his body, and sleep overtook him, and for the first time he slept deeply and well after a kill. At some point in the night he rolled over and felt Cat beside him. It was the most natural thing to wrap his arm around her and pull her against him, fitting his body to hers. Cat wasn't much for cuddling but she didn't mind it this night. His arm around her waist was a little more pressure on her aching midsection, and his breath near her ear was relaxing. She spooned back against him and went back to sleep. And that was how they passed the night, taking and giving what small comfort they could.

What woke them in the morning was Robin frantically calling Cat's name and pounding on the door. Richard grabbed his mask and put it on, handed Cat her glasses, then pulled the sheet up over himself as Cat called for Robin to come in.

"What's on fire that you have to be so loud?" Cat said around a yawn.

"Cat...someone broke into your dad's house last night. He's...they shot him." Her voice was thick with grief, and her brown eyes shimmered with tears. "I'm so sorry, Cat...he's dead."

All the color seeped from Cat's face. She licked her lips, opened her mouth to say something, but there were no words. Her brows creased in puzzlement, because she couldn't quite make sense of what Robin just said.

"Who?" she finally managed. Robin closed the distance and sat down beside Cat, giving Richard a shooing motion with her eyes. Richard took the hint and got up, grabbing his things and leaving the room. He dressed there on the top stair, then went downstairs. He asked the first girl he saw for a pen and a sheet of paper.

_Cat,_

_I'm so sorry. Send for me if you need me._

_Richard_

He folded the note and asked the girl to give it to Cat when circumstances allowed, then he slowly walked home.

* * *

><p>Robin took Cat's trembling hands in hers.<p>

"I don't know if the cops have any clue who did it," Robin said softly. "There's one downstairs. He wants to talk to you. Maybe he'll tell you something." Cat nodded and went about getting dressed. Once she was presentable, she went down stairs, finding a young, blue eyed cop who introduced himself as Detective Hiddles or Higgles or something like. He was gentle but thorough as he questioned Cat.

"We had dinner together Wednesday," Cat told him. "That was the last I saw of him. We would have gotten together later this week, we always did."

"Did your father have any enemies that you know of?"

"We all have enemies, Detective."

"But no one you can think of who would want to kill him?"

Cat shook her head. "No, no one. He was a kind man. He was always willing to help people out. Maybe...I don't know. Maybe someone he was helping wanted more." She could only shrug.

"It looks like someone robbed him," the detective said. "It's just my theory, but I think whoever did it was surprised to find your father home, and they panicked, and shot him. I doubt it's any consolation, but I don't think your father suffered."

"You're right," Cat said. "That doesn't console me at all."

"Yes. Well...you have my sympathies, Miss Tolliver. I'll be sure to let you know if we learn anything. You'll need to go to the morgue, just for positive identification. They'll let you know when the body will be released so arrangements for his funeral can be made."

"Thank you," Cat replied, realizing she would have to be the one to make those arrangements. The detective bid her and Robin ( who hadn't left Cat's side) a good day and left. Cat stood where she was, feeling so old suddenly. "You know," she said to Robin, although her eyes never left the patterned rug, "every time things seem to be going right, something like this happens and makes me realize it's pointless to be happy. It just gets crushed anyway."

"You don't mean that, Cat. Not really. You're upset right now and the whole world looks like shit because of it. But you're not the kind of woman who lets something like this get you down. You're too fucking mule-headed."

"So you always tell me," Cat said, a small smile forming in spite of her grief.

"And if you weren't so fucking mule-headed, I wouldn't have to keep reminding you." Cat managed to laugh even though she wanted to cry.

* * *

><p>"You didn't, mm. Tell me it...was her. Mm, father."<p>

"Would it have made a difference?" Nucky asked, spreading his hands questioningly. "I would think you'd prefer not to know who they are."

Richard shook his head. "I mm, would have. Done things. Differently, mm. If I...had known." Like, not gone to her after. But he should have figured the man he had killed had something to do with Cat; he lived in the same neighborhood and Nucky's main mission lately had been getting Cat to fold, so why was he surprised that Nucky would start taking out those close to her? "Not having a crisis of conscious, are you, Richard."

"No," Richard answered honestly. "Mm, I just. Don't understand why...a man. Who did, mm, nothing...to you. Had to die."

"It's war," Nucky replied as if were the most obvious thing. "People die in war. You of all people should know this." Richard regarded Nucky in a way that eventually made the treasurer feel uncomfortable. Nucky shifted and lowered his eyes from that almost blank gaze of Richard's. "That woman needs to understand I'm not fucking around," he said, wincing at the petulant tone the words came with. Richard continued to stare at Nucky, suddenly realizing the man was nothing but an overgrown spoiled brat. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and damned to anyone or anything that stood in his way. He had no qualms about doing vile and completely unneeded acts to obtain what he wanted. Richard knew this, he had always known it but now it was SO OBVIOUS and Richard knew without a doubt that he would not stop with just Cat's father. The next person Richard would be asked to kill would be one of Cat's girls, and he could not and would not do that to one of those innocent young women. But he said nothing, he just continued to stare at Nucky. "Look, Richard. You'll see...this will make it easier for you to get Cat out your way. Point out to her that it could have been her, she could be the next one. If she's starting to trust you like you think she is, she'll believe you." Nucky waited for a reply. When none was forthcoming, he said "You could at least blink, let me know you hear what I'm saying."

Richard blinked, and Nucky was certain there was a great deal of sarcasm in that small motion.

* * *

><p>Cat stood at the graveside, staring blankly at the coffin that held her father's remains. She could feel the tears burning hotly behind her eyelids, but the anger she felt at whomever was responsible for her father's death kept her grief from manifesting itself. The past few days were nothing but a haze in which she had gone about doing what needed to be done, eating if someone shoved a plate of food into her hand, and eventually collapsing into her bed at the end of the day when she finally managed to wear herself to exhaustion. Even after the funeral, she couldn't shake the numbing anger that encompassed her. She went about her business, but her mind was no where near being on it. She could only think in dark black and red images of <em>hurting <em>the mysterious _someone._ Her temper began to grow short, and soon the girls were doing their best to avoid her. Only Robin dared approach her, and not even she was spared Cat's wrath. A week after the funeral, Opal approached Robin.

"So the other day, when we, you know...heard about Cat's dad? Um, well, Richard gave me this note to give to her, but, um...I kind of forgot about and and now, um...I don't want to bother her." The pretty young girl all but shoved the note into Robin's hand. "I didn't read it. I hope it wasn't important or anything."

"Don't worry," Robin said soothingly. "I'm sure if was important, Richard would have come by. Go on back to the lounge. I'll make sure Cat gets this." Opal gave a sigh of relief and hurried back to work. Robin waited until Opal was out of sight before she opened the note and read it. It wasn't urgent, but it did give Robin an idea.

* * *

><p>Richard was surprised when the knock on his door came; he couldn't imagine who would come visiting him, at least no one who would come for a good reason. He carefully stood up and grabbed his gun, walking quietly across the floor. He adjusted himself just so and opened the door just far enough to peer out. Surprised, he stepped back and opened the door wider.<p>

"Hey, Mr. Harrow!" It was the young boy who had delivered Cat's note a while back. "Can you come out please? Ma wants to talk to ya." Richard slipped his gun into his waistband and followed the boy outside, wondering why the boy's mother would want to speak to him. It made sense when he saw Robin waiting nervously on the buildings steps.

"Ma'am," Richard said politely, giving a small bow of his head. "Your son, mm. Said you wanted...to speak. To me?"

Robin nodded and smoothed her skirt nervously. "Run along home, Jason," she told her son. "Make sure you mind your father. I don't want him coming by later to tell me you were a wretched brat."

"Yes, Ma," Jason replied in that long suffering tone children were so good at affecting before he darted away, leaving Richard and Robin to stand in uncomfortable silence. Richard waited patiently for her to speak, curious to know what she wanted but understanding that sometimes you just couldn't blurt things out, no matter how much you wanted to. Robin studied him carefully; he wasn't sure if that boded well for him or not. After a moment Robin nodded as if to herself and said "Cat isn't taking the death of her father well. No, that's not true...I think she's handling the death itself well; it's the manner of his death that she's not handling well."

"Losing. Mm, someone you...care a. Great deal for. Mm, to cold. Blooded murder...hurts," Richard replied, speaking from experience.

"I would imagine so. Cat's father was a good man. We were all shocked and incredibly saddened by his death. Not as much as Cat, of course, but..." She sighed and looked away from Richard. "Right now, the only thing Cat has on her mind is finding whoever did it. It's getting unbearable to be around her. She's...she's tense and angry and constantly on edge. I don't think she's sleeping much, and getting her to eat is almost impossible. The girls are afraid to get near her, the clients can tell he's in a foul mood any time she walks into the room, although she's been doing that less than she should. She spends most of her time in her office or her bedroom. I'm worried about her, and...I don't know what to do to help her."

"And, mm, you think...I do?"

"Cat...," Robin looked at Richard, her hands palm up and flexing as if that action would help her better grope for words. "She trusts you. In a way she doesn't trust any one else. I think...if anyone can get through to her, it's you."

Richard shook his head. "If she, mm. Wanted to see me...she. Would have. Sent, mm. For me. I left a...note."

"I know. Opal gave it to me today, and I gave it to Cat, suggesting she get in touch with you."

"And?"

"She threw an ashtray at my head and told me to fuck off." Robin shrugged, as if this were normal behavior for Cat. "That's why I'm here, now. I think you're good for Cat..." Richard couldn't help but snort at the inaccuracy of that statement. If Robin only knew the truth of things. But she pressed on. "You might not believe me, but it's true. When Cat turned her attention solely to running the house, I think a small part of her died. She's good at keeping things together, making sure everything runs smoothly, and she takes good care of us. But she really missed taking clients." Robin debated how much to tell him. What did he really need to know? How could she explain it all to him? "I've known Cat for just about my whole life. She's almost like a sister to me. We've been there for each other through everything, from crushes on the boys in the neighborhood to disastrous clients. She's strong in so many ways, and incredibly stubborn. I mean INCREDIBLY...you'd have an easier time talking a brick wall into crumbling than you would talking Cat into changing her mind. She's also proud, and sometimes that's a bad thing. But she always loved her job. And she was good at it. But when her eyesight started to fail, oh...about ten years ago, she ran into a problem. It wasn't so bad at first, but it's been getting steadily worse as time goes on. She finally accepted that she was going to have to wear glasses, but one or two of her clients didn't exactly find that attractive. One night, it's been four years now, she was with one of her...I don't know how to really describe him; he was one of the more influential business men in town, and he was very used to getting his way. He wanted Cat to tie him up, whip him fuck him...the usual. But he didn't like Cat's glasses, and he told her to take them off. Cat tried to argue, saying she couldn't see with out them, he was like 'it's my money, take them off' Well, she did, and...she brought the whip too close to his face, and she ended up taking out his eye. It was ugly, and Cat was devastated. She hung it up right then and there, and didn't take another client after that...Until you showed up. That first night, she was convinced you were there because Nucky sent you, even though you denied it. But when you came back the second time, she...some spark that had gone out in her came back. The next morning, when she finally woke up and came downstairs, she looked so...pleased with herself and life in general."

"She, mm. Had every right...to be," Richard mumbled, color creeping into his face in spite of himself.

"Yes, well...Look, you've already done a lot to help Cat, and the house. I probably don't have the right to ask you, but can you please try to help her again?"

Richard could only nod. How could he not help Cat? It was his fault she was suffering, after all.

Richard nodded after a moment. "Please tell me. What, mm. The police said...happened."

* * *

><p><em>Well, at least the police bought the setup, <em>Richard thought as he made his way up the stairs to the attic. They firmly believed someone had broken into the house to rob it, been startled to find Mr. Tolliver at home, sleeping (although, really...who would be shocked to discover a man sleeping in his own bed at night?).

Robin had given him a lot of information as they had walked from his boarding house. He even asked her to show him where Cat's father had lived, acting as if it were the first time he'd seen the house.

_I'm starting to think like Jimmy. That didn't exactly end well for him. I wonder...am I **trying **to get myself killed? _

Richard didn't really have a plan. Robin had no advice to offer, either. He would just have to see where it went. He knocked gently on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. Maybe she had fallen asleep; if there was no response to the second knock he would sit and wait. But Cat did respond, yelling 'go away'. Richard turned the door knob and pushed the door open."I said go away," Cat snapped. She was standing by the window, staring out but seeing nothing. It was where she had stood the first night Richard came to the attic, but all of the strength and confidence she had displayed that night were gone. Now she radiated tension and anger. Richard cleared his throat and she turned to face him, and when he looked at her, his heart shattered. He was the cause of this; it was his fault she had dark circles under her eyes, the unhealthy pallor, the pain filled, angry look in her eyes."Go away, Richard," Cat said softly. "I'm not in the mood. See one of the other girls."

"You look. Mm, like shit."

"Fuck you."

"You just said. You...weren't in. Mm, the mood. But if...it will, mm, make you. Feel better..." He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Do you know what would make me feel better? If all of you would leave me in fucking peace. 'Just making sure you're okay, Cat,'" she mimicked. "Do you want anything cat?' 'Gee, Cat sure wish you'd cheer up'..." She shook her head and turned away from Richard once more. "Just leave me alone."

"No," Richard said as he moved deeper into the room. He didn't approach Cat, not yet. He had a vague idea...whether it would work was debatable, but it's something he thought would help. He knew it was more than likely going to hurt. "Mm, you've been...alone too much. Lately," he told her. "That, mm...isn't making you. Feel better and, I...have a mm, feeling it's only. Making you. Feel worse." He took off his mask and set it in a safe place; he couldn't afford to have this one damaged. He also set his gun and his knife aside. He knew there were weapons aplenty in Cat's room, but he wanted to keep ones that actually penetrated flesh out of her reach, if it all possible. "You've, mm, been left alone...by those dingbat girls, mm. You employ. They've left you...to wallow in..mm, misery because they're...afraid of you. Mm, and what. You might do to...them." He took off his jacket and his tie, rolled up his shirtsleeves and slowly walked towards Cat, stopping behind her. "They don't understand...mm, what you're feeling." He put his hands on her shoulders, she tried to shrug him off; he wouldn't let her, though. He was going to have to keep prodding her. "Mm, they don't...know. How it feels, to ache with. The need for vengeance. They can't...comprehend. Mm, how it feels to know. The person, mm. Responsible for taking a ray. Of light from...your life is. Mm, walking around." Cat was trembling beneath his hands, and he could see her jaw flexing. He leaned close to her ear and said in a deep, slow tone. "It was...me, Cat. Mm, I broke the door in, and mm, went through your...father's things. I, mm...didn't care who he was. Or who might, mm. Suffer for my actions." Cat inhaled sharply, clenched her hands into fists. "I, mm. Was the one. Who shot him..."

Cat spun around and shoved at him, giving voice to a strangled scream of hurt and anger. Richard kept goading her, forcing her rage out and onto him. She responded, shoving and slapping at him.

"He was...sound asleep, mm. When I shoved the. Bedroom door open," Richard said. Cat punched at him, connecting with his shoulder. He backed away, Cat following him step for step as she kept hitting him. "He died, mm. So I could steal...some cheap silverware and, mm...a few dollars." That was all he could get out of a while, because Cat took after him with fury, slapping and punching where ever she could connect. His shoulders, his arms, his face, she didn't care. She didn't even really see him through the red haze of her anger. She just heard the words and reacted. In the back of her mind, she realized that Richard was goading her, but she was too far gone in her anger to care. She needed to lash out, and here was a target, and he was telling her what he had done, how he had done it, how he hadn't cared at all that he would be causing pain.

"WHY?" she cried, beating his chest with her fists. Richard found himself being backed towards the opposite wall. "WHY? WHY DID YOU DO IT?" The tears she hadn't been able to shed began to spill as Richard pressed against the wall. "WHY?" Cat repeated. "Why?" And that's when the sobs began, thickening her voice and giving truth to all the pain she'd been feeling "Why?"

She pressed her face against him as the sobs took over. Richard wrapped his arms around her, all he could do now was offer what strength and comfort he could. Her tears were hot as they soaked through his shirt. Between her anguished sobs, she kept asking the one question Richard couldn't answer: WHY. He kept his arms around her, held her close to him as she wept, and when her knees gave out, he slid down the wall with her and pulled her onto his lap, holding her face against his chest, weeping with her although he shed no tears. He hurt for her. Her anguish was his, and neither of them could understand why her father had been killed. Richard did understand that innocents died in war, but this was not really war, no matter what Nucky thought. *_Well, it wasn't war before_* Richard thought as he held Cat. *_It is now. I am going to help Cat save this neighborhood. Nucky will pay for this._*

Cat kept crying, her grief finally freed from behind the wall of anger. Something about Richard's arms around her made her feel safe enough to let everything out. When she collapsed and he went with her and pulled her against him, she was able to really let it loose. It hurt, and she was still angry at whoever had killed her father, but the release was needed and by the time her sobs eased into deep, shuddery hiccoughs, she felt more like herself. Not necessarily better, but at least she felt like she could think and function and even get on with her life. she took comfort from Richard being there, and she couldn't help but be grateful to him for letting her take out her anger on him. He did for her what she had done for others. Because it had crossed Cat's mind to start dragging in anyone from the neighborhood who had been known to break in and rob from people. It might have taken her a long time to find the right person, and there was no telling how many people she would have beaten to get a confession. She knew it would have been the wrong course of action; she knew it wouldn't bring her father back, but it had been tempting, and Richard had saved a lot of people undeserved pain.

"Thank you," she finally managed to choke out, her voice raw and thick. She tried to sniffle her nose clear; Richard pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. He continued to hold her as she wiped her face, his arms loose enough that she could move away if she wanted. She didn't. She stayed, with her head resting on his shoulder, feeling vulnerable but protected.

"How, mm. Do you...feel?"

"Better, I think."

"You think?"

"I...I still hurt. Inside, I mean. But I feel empty, too."

"Hungry?" Cat thought and shook her head after a moment. "When, mm. Was the...last time. You ate?"

"Yesterday? Maybe the day before?"

"If you. Can't remember. Mm, you haven't. Eaten enough." Cat only shrugged. She wasn't sure what day it was, or when the last time was she did anything, to be completely honest. She only knew that she was suddenly very tired.

"I really believed you did it, for a minute," Cat told Richard. He didn't know if she was even aware she was doing it, but Cat was nestling herself more comfortably against him. "You gave details like you..." she paused and let out a wide yawn. "...like you had been there."

"What, mm. Did I say...that made you, mm. Think it wasn't. Me?"

"The thing about..." _yawn _"...his eyes. Dad's eyes were dark blue. Not at..."_yawn _"Not at all like mine."

Richard recalled saying something about 'frost blue eyes opened wide in terror as the first bullet struck', but the truth was, Richard wasn't sure if Cat's father had even had a chance to open his eyes. If he had, Richard certainly hadn't taken note of the color of them. He had to push aside the sharp stab of guilt that tore through him. Bad enough that he had done the deed; even worse that Cat believed him innocent. He knew he should tell her the truth, but he couldn't. He was too afraid to. And he could not see any good coming from it, at least not now. Maybe later, maybe years from now. Maybe never.

"Can you..."_yawn _"talk to me...for a few minutes?" She was falling asleep, Richard could tell it from the sound of her voice and the gentle relaxing of her body.

"Mm, about what?"

"Anything," she murmured, and so Richard began talking about his life growing up, although he didn't get four sentences out before Cat fell completely asleep. Richard trailed off when he realized she was out. His back began to hurt after a while, his backside went numb, his arm was cramping up from the awkward angle it was at combined with Cat's weight on it, but he held as still as he could, not wanting to risk disturbing her. It wasn't any worse than any time he had to sit stock still in Europe, it was actually much better than them all. He was dry, he was warm, he wasn't alone, and there was no one twenty feet away wanting to kill him. He watched Cat as she slept, listened to her even breaths, felt the ache of the bruises she had caused begin to form; took them for a small penance for his sins, and silently begged her forgiveness for what he had done.

When Cat slowly woke up, she was unsure at first how she came to be sitting on Richard's lap with him sitting on the floor. But the way her head and chest ached from her sobbing quickly brought events back to her. She took a deep breath and slowly sat up, stiff from the odd position she'd been in. Then she reached up and straightened her glasses, looking at Richard as she did so.

"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I am so sorry."

"You...hit hard." She had smacked him twice on his right cheek, which had turned a bright shade of scarlet while she'd been sleeping. There were also two bruises going to purple on his face; one just below the outer corner of his right eye, and a larger, darker one low on the left side of his jaw. "You throw. A, mm...mean right hook," he said as he rubbed his jaw. He was aware of a couple other tender spots, mostly on his shoulders and chest, but also a doozy on his ribs.

"Dad taught me to punch," she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of crying again. "He said..he said I needed to know how to defend myself." She took a deep breath to force back the threatening tears. Richard changed the subject.

"Mm, you need to. Take a bath, then...eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"You will, mm. Still eat...something."

Cat didn't have the energy to argue. She slowly made her way to her feet and shuffled down the length of the attic, opening the door to what Richard had assumed was a closet, but turned out to be a bathroom. She turned on the light and started the water, stripping down while the water warmed up, then turned the shower on and stepped under the spray. She simply stood there for a while, letting the water run over her face, mixing with the tears that once again streamed from her eyes. It seemed that now that the dam had been broken open, the flood would end only when it was ready. When she finally thought they were done, she scrubbed herself until her skin was red and her hair hurt.

When she stepped back into the room, Richard was just coming in from the steps with a tray of food in his hand.

"The woman in, mm. Your kitchen just...informed me. Mm, I'm not fat enough," Richard said, slightly annoyed. Something about his statement, possibly the tone he said it in, or the look on his face when he said it, made Cat give a quick snort of laughter. He sighed and shook his head, setting the tray down on the bed.

"Eat," he told Cat, pointing at the tray. She walked over and sat down, noting that there were two sandwiches and two bowls of soup.

"I'll eat if you eat," she said, looking at Richard.

"I, mm. Would rather not...eat. In front of. You, mm."

Cat raised one eyebrow at him and pointedly crossed her arms over her chest.

"I can't...eat with. Mm, my mask on," Richard explained. Cat continued to look at him. "It's, mm. Awkward how. I have to...eat, and. Mm, you can see. Me chewing, mm. And crumbs get everywhere..." And Cat's expression changed not at all. Richard sighed and took his mask back off, setting it carefully down on the bed before grabbing one of the sandwiches. Cat took the other and looked at Richard, who gave her a baleful, uncomfortable look. She gave a small nod and turned her back, giving him a bit of privacy so he could eat. Richard ate slowly, trying hard to not make a mess, grateful that Cat wasn't able to see the awkward way he had to put food into his mouth, or the disgusting sight of him actually chewing. He had watched himself eating in a mirror, once. It had greatly depressed him, to the point that he hadn't eaten for a week afterward. Two nurses had pinned him down while a third shoved stew down his throat, and the absolute embarrassment of the situation had gotten him back to eating, although he would not do it where people could see him; not even Jimmy had ever seen him eat. But if his eating something would get Cat to eat, so be it. He was hungry, anyway, and the sandwich was good. He wasn't going to try the soup, however. Liquids were tricky; he really didn't want to dribble tomato soup out the side of his mouth. But Cat was so hungry that she ate her entire sandwich, her bowl of soup, and most of Richard's before she was full. Richard wiped crumbs from his mouth as Cat finished eating, then he took the tray and set it just outside her door, as he'd been instructed. He looked Cat over, noting that her color had come up somewhat, and she looked slightly better, although she still looked tired and pale.

"You need, mm, more sleep," Richard said gently. Cat yawned at that moment, supporting his argument.

"Will you stay? Please?" Cat looked at him uncertainly. "I know it's a lot to ask, and...you've already done so much for me tonight...but I...I don't want to be alone...and...and..." She trailed off, looking down at her hands, which she was wringing nervously.

"I, mm. Promise not to...push you off. The bed," he said as lightly as he could as he came back to the bed and sat down beside Cat. He gently took one of her hands in his, softly tracing the lines on her palm with his long fingers. "You know... mm, I think. I...understand you. A little more. Mm, what you do...why you, mm do it. The...taking someone's pain. For them. Mm, I'm sorry...for judging you." Cat brought her eyes to meet his, the look in her eyes was a deep gratitude mixed with something he couldn't name, but he knew he had said the right thing.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely. "You're the first person who's ever said that."

"Mm, that they...understood you?"

"That they were sorry for judging me."


	8. The Best Laid Plans

The Best Laid Plans

Richard woke up, not sure what time it was. Cat was asleep beside him, curled up on her side with her back to him. He sat up and rubbed sleep from his eye. For once, Cat's house wasn't completely silent in the wee small hours of the morning. It was faint, but he could hear the very distinct sounds of one of the women plying her trade downstairs.

He carefully climbed out of the bed and padded across the attic to the bathroom. He relieved himself, then stood and contemplated the shower, wondering if Cat would mind if he used it, and what the worst that could happen would be if she did mind.

*It's Cat,* he thought with a mental snort. *Her idea of the worst that could happen would probably involve her taking the skin from my back, and she would enjoy every minute of it, too*

He decided to risk it; he felt filthy and couldn't stand it. So he turned on the water and stripped, opening the showerhead and climbing under the water. He quickly showered, glad that Cat didn't use overly scented soap; clean was one thing but walking around smelling like a basket of flowers was quite another.

He cut the water off and grabbed a towel to dry with, then he looked at at clothes he'd been wearing and really didn't want to put them back on. He remembered that there was still a change if clothes here, from the night he had murdered Cat's father. He would just have to find them. He wrapped the towel around his waist, gathered his things and opened the door. He stopped immediately when he saw Cat, kneeling stark naked in front of the door, hands folded in her lap.

"I hope you don't mind, mm. That I took a shower."

"Not at all. And now that you're clean," she paused to suggestively lick her lips, "perhaps Master will allow me to thank him for his generous gift to the house?" She reached up and loosened the towel from his waist, running her hands along his hips and down his thighs as she raised her body and brought her lips to his skin, planting feather-light kisses on the warm, smooth skin of his stomach. His cock hardened,rising to brush along her cheek as if begging for attention, but she ignored it for the time being. She skimmed her fingers up and down his thighs, gently coaxing him into a wider legged stance  
>as her hands moved closer to the insides of his legs. She moved her kisses down his hips, occasionally running her tongue along the ridge of the bone, or puffing a small warm breath on a sensitive area. Teasingly, her hands moved up his inner thighs, brushing sensitive, erogenous spots that were so often ignored in favor of the more obvious areas.<p>

Soon her mouth and her hands had switched spots; her hands trailed along his hips and stomach while her mouth planted kisses and licks on his thighs.

A low moan escaped his throat; he widened his legs further and dropped the long forgotten clothes he had been holding so that he could brace his arms on the door. He had no idea what she was ultimately planning but if he was already weak kneed from the foreplay he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand when it was all said and done. Another moan as her tongue ran along his balls.

She could feel the muscles in his thighs quivering with anticipation and excitement as she began licking his testicles. She was well aware of his erection just above her face; she glided her fingers over the head as if to say 'I haven't forgotten you', spreading the slick pre-cum around the tip and making his manhood jump at her touch. She would get to that soon; right now she was content to orally explore his testicles, taking them into her mouth, caressing them with her lips and her tongue, all the while listening to him to discover what he liked most and least. When her tongue probed the sensitive spot behind his scrotum, a spot many people never thought to explore, Richard inhaled sharply as he rose onto his toes. She continued to tease the spot with her tongue; Richard was enjoying it but at the same time he was slightly uncomfortable: her tongue was getting a little too close to someplace he wanted no one touching. He shifted his hips back slightly, grateful that she took the hint and completely blissful when she turned her attention to his cock, licking from base to tip and back down, over and over again before she took him into her mouth. She worked him slowly, caressing his erection with her lips and tongue, her hands on his hips encouraging his thrusts. A rhythm set, her hands slowly, innocuously, began moving back, grasping the firm cheeks of his ass, kneading the flesh, driving him against her face as she took his length as far down her throat as she could manage.

He was lost to the ecstasy of the blow job, so he was not paying much attention to her hands until he felt pressure against his anus.

"No," he said, jerking his hips back quickly, pulling himself out of her mouth. He fixed her with a stern glare; she looked back at him unapologetically. "No," he repeated; she gave a small shrug and took him into her mouth once more. She moved her hands to the front of his hips, placing them so she could run her thumbs over his balls. When he was well and truly lost to the pleasure, she slowly began moving her thumbs backward, seeing how far he would let her go. It turned out, not very. He growled at her to watch where she was putting her fingers. When she ignored him, he quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands behind her head, applying enough pressure to make her look up at him.

"Do I need to, mm. To teach you the meaning...of no?" He glared down at her, his face turned just slightly to the left, giving her a view more of the ruined side than the unblemished. She wondered if he realized he was doing it; was he purposely trying to intimidate her with the empty eye, torn mouth, scarred cheek? If it was an unconscious gesture, what did it mean? Subtle body gestures where often a good indicator to Cat about what her client really wanted or was about to do, clues to the kind of person they truly were. Richard emphasizing the left side of his face was important, but why?

"Do I?" he asked again. The lack of perceivable emotion in his tone made it all the more menacing.

"Does Master think he can?

Richard studied Cat, noting the eager excitement in her eyes. She thought this was some sort of game; she didn't know that deep inside of him, something was unraveling. Every time she called him 'master', a desire to be in control of her rose; the need to make her bend to his will flared within him. He knew it wasn't entirely lust, although that was driving him as well; he felt that, if he could learn to control Cat, he could soon be in control of his own life, become a man again, not a half faced shadow that was sent to do the dirty work. Perhaps he was deluding himself, perhaps there really was no hope for it, but he had to try, had to know the truth for himself, and if he failed, so be it.

Letting go of her hands, he took a step back and said "Turn around." Cat hesitated a moment, then said 'No.'

She had forgotten how quickly Richard could move; her mouth had barely closed around the word when he lunged forward and wrapped his hand around her throat. "Do not toy with me, woman. I thought...I proved that. Mm, you don't know me." He could feel her pulse racing. "You started this. You wanted...to see what I, mm. Was capable of." As he spoke his hand squeezed her throat just enough to make breathing difficult. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase. 'Be careful what you wish for because...mm, you might get it'?" He was doing it again, showing more of the left side of his face to her; she really didn't think he was aware of doing it and she was even more convinced that it was important. She felt the knot of fear driven desire flare to life as she tried to swallow, and could not. Richard tightened his hand further and said "Now turn around. Mm, get on your hands and knees...and start crawling. Towards the bed." Her tongue flicked across her lips and she nodded as best she could with Richard's hand on her throat. Richard released her and straightened; she turned around, placed her hands on the floor, and began crawling away from the bathroom door.

Richard watched her for a moment; he had forgotten how nice her ass was and how much he liked the sight of her from behind, it reminded him of his first night with her.

"You've got. A very nice ass," he told her. "Beautiful, really. Your hips, mm. Are just perfect...to grip and pull you. On to my cock. Stop there," he told her when she neared the armoire. She stopped. Richard walked passed her and opened the doors, quickly finding what he wanted and pulling the items out.

"Up on your knees," he said to her as he moved to stand behind her. "Now put your hands...behind your head." He slipped the cuffs around her wrists and locked them. He was about the slip the collar around her neck when she reached her hands back to grab his cock and slowly begin stroking it.

"And just what. Mm,..do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I can't really see, but I think I'm jerking Master's lovely cock off."

"Why? That isn't... What I told you to do."

"I'm just fulfilling your unvoiced request. You can't tell me you don't want me to do it."

"Rather presumptuous...of you," he stated as he extricated himself from her grip. He grabbed the chain to keep her hands still as he slipped the collar around her neck. Like she had done to him, he locked the chain to the collar; he however chained her hands close to her head, leaving a loop of chain dangling down her spine. And where she had only put a lock on the buckle to make him think he couldn't get the collar off, he made sure that she couldn't get it off. Satisfied with his work, he walked back to stand in front of her. "Also wrong. It was enjoyable, mm. But not what...I want. " He pressed the head of his cock against her lips, gave an insistent nudge. "I want you...to go back to. What you started." She parted her lips and took him in, and he couldn't help but sigh with pleasure and place his hands on her head to guide her motions. He remembered how Cat had insulted him, played on his insecurities, verbally taunted him, and he did the same, although he doubted he hit as many of her nerves as she had hit his. He watched himself slide in and out, let himself get close to the edge of bliss, then quickly pulled out of her mouth, his nerves thrumming with the need for release. He would fuck her, soon, but not yet. She had taught him the joy of prolonging the moment, had shown him how remarkable it could be to repeatedly get to the edge before actually going over it. She was turning him into a selfish bastard, at least as far as his pleasure went, and he was fine with that. But he still had enough manners to know she needed hers, too, and he would gladly see to her needs.

"You've been...a very good little whore," he told her, running his thumb over her plump, glistening mouth. "I think, mm. A little reward...is in order." He didn't think he imagined the anticipatory shiver that shook her body. "That's what all the other men...have done, isn't it? You play, mm. The good little...cock gobbling whore. And they reward you?" She gave a small nod, wondering what he had in store for her. She wasn't expecting too much, physically. He had the mind game part down, although he could have been much more degrading with his words; but still, considering how mannerly and polite he had been the first time he came to the house, 'cock gobbling whore' was a pretty big step.

"Stand up," he said. He walked back to her toy chest while she got to her feet, grabbing something he knew she would like. "I know...you're thinking I'm being to nice," he said as he turned to face her. "You want me, mm. To hurt you more, don't you?"

"It is entirely up to Master, what he does to me," she replied meekly. "It's about what Master wants and what he is willing to do to get it." Her words and they way she looked at him while she said them unleashed something in him; he had felt it at the beginning, but finally enough had broken and he knew there were no restraints.

It may have been the first moments of the decent into madness, it could have been the start of his ascension from Hell; he would never know for sure and at times he would see them as one in the same. He was forceful and dominating, at times very intimidating; but he was never brutal, never overly viscous. He praised her and rewarded her in one breath then berated and punished her the next. He had her pleading with him to stop one moment and then begging him for more.

When it was all said and done, they laid on the floor in a flushed, sweaty tangle of limbs, panting for breath as pulses slowed and nerves twitched in the aftermath of ecstasy. Richard disentangled his body from Cat's and stood on rubbery legs, feeling almost drunk and slightly disconnected from his body.

He looked down at Cat; her eyes were closed, a small contented smile curved her lips, her hands still locked behind her neck.

"I don't know...what you've done to me," he told her. "But...God...I love it." He was startled by the admission, but it was the absolute truth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him...he was a long, lean blur to her, but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice.

"I'm glad Master is pleased," she purred. "Would Master be so kind as to unlock his humble servant?"

"Humble?" Richard echoed with a small snort. "You?" He fetched the keys, helped her into a sitting position, and unlocked the cuffs and collar. She winced as she lowered her arms, they had been in one position for so long that get muscles were stiff, and to be honest, her right shoulder had never completely recovered from her first session with Richard.

"Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing her arms to encourage bloodflow.

"I haven't felt this good in a very long time," she told him, squinting over her should at him. "How are you?"

"I'm...good," he said after a moment's thought. She noted that he was looking at her with the right side of his face turned towards her. It convinced her further that there was great meaning in the fact that he'd gone through most of that fantastic session left face dominate. It just did nothing to tell her what the significance was.

"Can you find my glasses?" She asked. Richard stood up and searched the floor, finally finding them halfway across the attic floor. He brought them to her, offered his hands to help her up, strangely pleased with himself when she staggered and had to lean on him for support.

"Did I, mm...I mean, was it..."

"Don't get modest on me," Cat informed him "That was fucking fantastic and you know it. Don't try to hide that grin, you certainly have the right to it." She chuckled and shook her head. "I would never have thought it, but you're a natural. A little too polite sometimes...you said please to me twice...but all in all you were born for it. I'd be willing to bet you rose pretty quick up the command chain in the army."

"You'd lose. Never, mm. Got beyond private." He shrugged, because it didn't matter and he didn't care. She regarded him oddly for a moment, like she was going to ask something she shouldn't necessarily ask, but it quickly passed.

"Let's go get some food," she said instead.

"I'm...not hungry."

"Bullshit. You ate a sandwich last night, and that's it. Believe me, after the workout we just had, you need to eat. I won't watch, if that's what's holding you back." She saw a look of relief on his face.

They threw on some clothes and headed downstairs. They were walking down the hall to the kitchen when a slim, dark haired young woman wearing nothing but a short red, hooded cape ran by; she was followed by a man wearing nothing but a wolf mask.

"I'm going to catch you and eat you, my lovely! Hehehehe!" The man said. Richard knew the voice, and there was only one man in Atlantic City who had that weaselly giggle.

"Morning, Cat!" the young woman said as she ran past; all the right parts jiggled as she moved and Richard couldn't help but admire her for a moment. Then the man went past; Richard hoped that between the lovely woman he was chasing and the wolf mask blocking most of his vision the other man wouldn't notice him, but no such luck. Like a child caught red handed doing something he knew full well he shouldn't be doing, Mickey Doyle came to an immediate halt in front of Richard.

"Oh...uh..." Mickey slid the mask up his forehead and looked at Richard. "Um, I know you don't exactly like me," he said, his voice shaky with nerves and guilt, which were heightened each instant that Richard stared at his face (an unnerving experience at any time, Mickey always thought, but so much worse now because Mickey knew he could be in big trouble, and Richard was staring at his face more intently than usual because Mickey was naked and that was just not something Richard needed or wanted to see.) "But if you could, hehe, not mention to Nucky that you saw me here? I'd be grateful. And I'd owe you a big one...hehe." Mickey swallowed when Richard stayed silent. "I won't tell Nucky you're here either."

"What makes you think. Nucky doesn't know I'm here?" Richard asked. He saw Cat's eyes widen, knew he'd have to explain when they were alone, but more importantly, he saw fear in Mickey's eyes. "I won't, mm. Tell him I saw you here. But...you will owe me."

"Of course! Hehe, anything for our dear departed king's most loyal servant. Hehe."

"Oh Wolfie..." The young woman in the cape was peering around a doorway, beckoning Mickey seductively.

"Tabby is waiting for you," Cat told Mickey with a smile and a small wave of her hand. "She seems quite eager for you to ride her little red hood."

"Hehe. I shall, madam. Believe me I shall." With one last giggle, Mickey pulled the wolf mask over his face and dashed into the room Tabby was in. Richard steeled himself and turned to Cat, who was glaring at him with her arms crossed. She looked exactly like she had the first night he had come...like she was ready to shoot him where he stood.

"Let me...explain, please," he said.

"Oh my! What a big dick you have!"

"All the better to fuck you with, my dear! Hehe!"

"Can we go someplace. Mm, where we don't...have to hear Mickey Doyle. Having sex?" Richard couldn't repress his shudder at the thought. Cat nodded, turned, and continued to the kitchen. Richard followed her, going over what he wanted to say and hoping she would believe it. Hoping she would at least kill him quickly if she didn't.

The door shut behind him, Cat went to the stove and started making coffee.

"I thought you said Nucky didn't know you were here." Her tone was calm, but Richard knew it was false.

"I never...actually said he didn't know," Richard pointed out.

"So he does know, which means you lied to me the first night." The calm tone of voice was still there, barely. Her body, however, was tense with anger. "Do you know what happens to people that lie to me, Richard?"

"I've heard...that you kill them. Mm, well...at least one. Robin's son...mentioned it once."

"You have until the coffee is ready to explain yourself, then."

"Nucky did tell me to come...the first night. He, mm. Wanted me to kill you, although he never...ordered me to. But even if he had...I wouldn't have."

"Why not?"

"You've done nothing. Mm, to warrant it."

"Nucky thinks I have."

"I... Am not Nucky." Richard didn't have much time, if she was serious about his chance to explain being over when the coffee was done. "Most everyone I've killed...was either trying to kill me. Mm, or they had done something. Like try to kill someone I cared for, mm. Or owed something to. There was...always a reason. Except once. I...can't do that. Again." Guilt over her father still ate at him, a sense of self-preservation he hadn't believed he still possessed kept his mouth shut on the matter. "When you, mm. Came rushing at me and. Started yelling at me...I just knew. Mm, killing you would be wrong."

"Technically, killing anyone is wrong," she pointed out. "Sit down." Richard sat at the table, and Cat joined him with two cups of coffee, setting one of them in front of Richard. "I want the truth," she said, sitting across from him. "The absolute truth, right now. Are you here now in any way because of Nucky Thompson."

"Yes."

"I see. And what is it that he wants you to do."

"He wants you out, mm. I told him I...wanted to try and get you out. Without violence." He fiddled with the coffee cup, avoiding Cat's eyes.

"So...what? This has all been some ruse to get me out? What were you hoping? That you'd somehow dominate me into leaving? Or maybe that you would fuck me so good I would up and go?" She sounded hurt, and that surprised him. Yes, she was a passionate woman, but she wasn't emotional. He had thought she saw him only as a tool against Nucky, and someone to play her bedroom games with. He hadn't expected to discover that there was some emotional attachment on her part. And it made him feel even worse than he already did.

"Do you remember, the first night in the attic...you, mm. Warned me that I would discover things...about myself that I. Might be better off not knowing. Until that night...I thought I. Mm, was fine always being behind someone. Taking orders. Being a soldier. It's never been...any other way for me. But when you let me take control..." He was under no illusion that it had been otherwise. "I felt...  
>I guess, for the first time...in my life. Mm, I felt like I was in control of something. And...I liked it. It took time for me. To understand it...mm, and come to terms with it. It feels...like something I can't live without and...I realized mm, that if Nucky succeeds in driving you out...if you're not here...I won't be able to feel it." He stared into the coffee cup, waiting for Cat to say something. She stayed silent, and eventually he looked up at her, finding her looking at him intently; it was the same look she had given him earlier, when he told her he had never gained any rank in the army. She didn't look angry. She didn't look pleased either. She just looked very contemplative, and Richard wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.<p>

"So the only reason you want to help is because you like having power over me," she finally said.

"I thought that, mm. At first. But I realized that...the only people who benefit from Nucky's plan. Are Nucky and his cronies."

"Oh, but it's for the greater good of the city! New hotel, new stores..."

"You don't really... believe that."

"If I did, would I have come at you like I did that first night?" Richard had to admit she had a point. "I don't know what the hell you're doing here, Richard. You told me you weren't here because of Nucky, and that was a lie. You said you would be willing to help, and sure, you got us booze, but that was apparently just so I'd fuck you...Why are you shaking your head?"

"I didn't get you...the liquor so you would fuck me," he told her. "I got it, mm. Because I told you I would. And I'm...a man of my word."

"Really? Then aren't you up shit creek? Because you told me you would help me, but you also told Nucky you'd try to get me out." She leaned forward and stared him down. Richard stared back at her, unblinking.

"Have you ever, mm. Had a moment of absolute clarity. Where you see things...the way they really are?"

"They're called epiphanies, and yes, I've had one or two. Pretty sure I'm having one now, listening to you."

"You can never...make things easy. Can you?" Richard's temper flared. "Shut your mouth. For five fucking minutes. Mm, and try listening. To someone else for a change!" Cat's eyes widened, her mouth opened in shock, and she looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she closed her mouth and nodded. Richard took a deep breath, put his hands on the table and composed himself. "I thought...I could make both of you happy, but...Nucky is wrong. There is, mm no reason to take this neighborhood. There is plenty of room...to expand pretty much everywhere else. Mm, And there isn't anything...in the surrounding areas, that tourists would want to visit. Just more residential areas and warehouses." Richard's mouth twisted in thought. "It doesn't make sense. But, mm... That isn't why...I told you. I would help you. I think you're right in this, Cat. I joined the army...because I saw a greedy tyrant. Mm, trying to take more than..his fair share. I look at Nucky,...and I see the same thing. It doesn't matter to him...who he destroys along the way. So long, mm...as he gets what he wants. I never thought that I would care. I thought I would just...mm, follow orders, like a good soldier. But I can't. I can't watch him ruin other peoples' lives. I can't...listen to him, I can't do...what he will want me to do."

"What will he want you to do?" she asked quietly.

"He'll want me. Mm, to start killing people...close to you. Your girls."

"I see."

"Do you? Do you...understand what standing up to him. Really means? It will be war, Cat. Mm, fought here...in the streets you've known...your whole life. Involving people...you care about. Right now...your resistance is an annoyance to him. But, mm, if you're not out by September first...he will not take it well. And I don't think...I need to remind you that he has more men, more guns, mm and more power than you."

"Are you trying to say there's no chance of winning? Or are you trying to convince me to give up?"

"Neither. I want...to make sure. Mm, you know what you're facing." He looked at her earnestly. "This isn't a game. There won't be a safe word if it...gets to be too much. If you honestly intend to fight him..." He trailed off, not wanting to say she was liable to get herself, and everyone in the neighborhood, killed. But she knew. She wasn't stupid, and she had been dealing with Nucky a lot longer than he had.

"it will have to be everyone's own decision," she said, more to herself than to him. "I can't decide that for anyone."

"You're going to need...everyone you can get to help."

"Assuming enough people are willing, what do we do? How do we fight him?"

"You can't take him on, mm. Head to head. He's too powerful You'll have to make sure...that you're well set by September. I guess it will, mm. Depend on how many people are willing to fight...what your best. Course of action would be."

"I can get everyone together tonight, explain the danger and the consequences. You can explain the plans to those who are willing."

"Alright." Then what she said actually set in. "Wait. What?"

"Did I stutter?" she asked, one black eyebrow raised questioningly. "Or are you not going to help?"

"I'll help," Richard said. "But why would...mm, I be the one telling them?"

"Because you know what you're doing, you know more about Nucky's operation than I do, and for as much as my neighbors like and respect me, I am still a woman, and a whore to boot, and some people won't see any of that as good leadership material." She stood up and walked around the table to stand next to him.

"Why would...they listen to me?" he asked, looking up at her. "They don't know me. Why would, mm. They trust me?"

"If they don't, well, I guess that means they won't go along with it, and I guess that will be my cue to give in to Nucky." She shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that contained a world of sorrow. "I don't think it will come to that though. No one wants to lose their homes or businesses. We've known for a long time that just saying no to Nucky wouldn't be enough, but we just didn't know what we could do, how to really stand up to him." It was a moment where Richard saw how worried and stressed over the situation she really was. He didn't know how she would react, but he reached out and took one of her hands in his.

"I will help you. ...In any way. I can," he reassured her. "It...probably won't do. Mm, much good, but I'm with you."


End file.
